i-Jirs .  ^   W  .   Kemp 


THE   MASTER 


Other  Books   by 
IRVING    BACHELLER 


THK  M AMI.K  01   SII.K.NCE 

I'.IU.N    IlnLDEN 

EBEN  HOLDEN'H  LAST  DAY  A- 

D'RI  AND  I 

DARREL  OF  THE  BLESSED  ISLES 

VIRGIUUS 

SILAS  STRONG 

THE  HAND-MADE  GENTLEMAN 


THE    MASTER 


BEING    IN    PART 

COPIED  FROM   THE   MINUTES    OF  THE   SCHOOL   FOR   NOVELISTS 

A     ROUND     TABLE     OF     GOOD     FELLOWS    WHO,    LONG 

SINCE,  DINED    EVERY    SATURDAY  AT   THE  SIGN 

Q'    THE      LANTHORNE,     ON      GOLDEN 

HILL,    IN   NEW  YORK    CITY 


By 
IRVING    BACHELLEB 


New  York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
1909 


6/8 


ALL  KlOim  KtftEIVED,  INCUTDtNO  THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYUGBT,   IQOQ,  BY  DOCBLZDAY,  PAGE  *  COMPANY 
PUBLISHED,  OCTOBER,    IQOQ 


^Sj^-f       O 

0 


rT*to 


TO  MY  FIRST  EMPLOYER  AND  GOOD  FRIEND 

Louis  KLOPSCH 


FOREWORD 

I  WAS  talking  one  day  with  my  friend,  Mr.  Willis 
Brooks  Hawkins,  of  the  many  careless  nights  we  had 
known  together  at  the  old  Lanthorne  Club,  which  held 
its  sessions  in  a  very  odd  and  ancient  house  on  Monkey 
Hill,  and  later  in  the  old  tavern  farther  south,  where 
once  the  redoubtable  Captain  Kidd  loved  to  light  his 
pipe  and  drink  his  grog  and  coffee.  We  spoke  of  the 
boys  and  men  who  had  sat  with  us  at  meat  before  its 
ample  fireside  —  of  Crane,  Field,  Masson,  Nye,  Tark- 
ington,  Garland,  Gaines,  Gilder,  Howells,  Stedman  and 
Stoddard,  some  of  whom  were  then  beginning  their 
work.  As  our  talk  went  on  I  told  of  my  plan  for  this 
tale,  and  particularly  of  a  quarrelsome  old  sea  "Cap'n" 
who  had  pushed  into  my  study  at  odd  times  and  bul 
lied  me,  busy  as  I  had  been  with  better  people,  into 
hearing  him.  I  told  how  his  rough  fist  had  whacked 
my  best  mahogany  in  the  midst  of  unwelcome  tales 
and  opinions ;  how  once  he  had  broken  into  my  task 
with  a  ribald  song  and  boldly  winked  at  me  when  I 
turned  to  protest,  and  begun  to  fight  the  wind,  as  one 
may  say,  in  a  long  talk  about  "lady  cooks";  how  at 


viii  THE  MASTER 

last  I  had  thrust  him  into  my  plot  and  slain  the  wretch 
to  get  rid  of  him.  I  did  not  fail  to  speak  of  my  sus 
picions  that  he  might  have  been  a  deep  one,  the 
ghost  of  Kidd — or  some  one  of  his  other  relatives — 
sent  by  the  gods  themselves  to  destroy  me  for  the 
public  good. 

We  weighed  these  possibilities  and  wrangled  over 
my  plan  quite  in  the  fashion  that  prevailed  at  the  old 
Sign  of  the  Lanthorne.  The  Brotherhood  of  the 
Toilers'  Chain  was  born  of  our  talk,  and  I  am 
indebted  to  my  good  friend  for  information  as  to 
Condon  and  his  methods. 

The  few  who  may  have  read  my  first  and  least- 
known  tale,  "The  Master  of  Silence,"  will  recogni/e 
heroin  one  of  its  incidents  and  a  trait  of  its  leading 
character. 

I  have  dared  to  hope  that  the  reader  would  find 
amusement  and  something  better  in  these  singular 
adventures  and  observations  of  "The  Pippin." 

IRVING  BACHELIJ  K. 
Robinwood,  Julrj  SO,  1909. 


THE   MASTER 


THE  MASTER 


CHAPTER  I 

I  HAVE  written  half  a  hundred  tales,  but 
none  so  strange  as  this  one  that  I  have 
been  living  for  the  past  twenty  years.  So  many 
have  sat  with  me  through  half  a  night  by  the 
fireside  and  heard  me  tell  of  Rog  Rone  and 
Ben  Lovel  and  the  Susq  and  the  big  round 
table  at  the  Sign  of  the  Lanthorne  and  begged 
for  more  when  I  rose  and  bade  them  good 
night  that  now  here  I  am,  at  last,  with  pen  in 
hand  beginning  my  story.  Hereafter  I  shall 
see  less  of  the  midnight  hour  and  save  my 
lungs  and  send  them  to  the  book  at  bedtime 
if  they  want  more  of  me.  I  have  some  hope, 
too,  that  the  truth  as  I  shall  set  it  down  may 
restore  a  lost  and  loved  companion  of  my 
youth  if  that  be  possible. 

I  was  born  in  Bedford  Square,  London,  in 
1859.  We  lived  handsomely,  my  father  being 
in  the  Government  service  and  fairly  well-to-do, 
and  I  spent  my  boyhood  in  a  boarding  school. 

s 


:.'*:•:;••;:::    :  /.THE   MASTER 

My  father  died  when  I  was  fifteen,  leaving  his 
fortune  in  the  possession  of  my  stepmother 
and  a  guardian.  I  had  been  a  pet  and  was 
now  a  problem  and  on  my  way  to  worse  dis 
tinction,  as  I  thought.  Because  I  had  been 
guilty  of  a  little  prank  or  two  at  school  they 
pushed  me  into  the  world  to  earn  my  living 
with  an  allowance  of  forty  pounds  a  year. 

So  it  happened  that  soon  after  my  bereave 
ment  I  went  to  Liverpool  to  learn  the  plumber's 
trade.  Now  of  all  trades  that  was  least  to 
my  liking,  and  yet  if  I  had  not  been  a  plumber 
my  story  could  never  have  made  itself  and 
I --well,  I  should  have  gone  down  into  the 
dungeons  of  the  deep  sea  long  ago,  most 
likely. 

So  there  I  was  in  Liverpool  for  a  matter  of 
five  years  making  the  best  of  it,  and  a  fairly 
good  plumber,  for  one  of  delicate  breeding, 
and  the  foundations  of  my  history  as  well. 

I  had  rather  humble  lodgings  in  the  out 
skirts  of  the  city.  Being  slow  to  make  friends 
I  grew  to  love  the  solitude  of  my  attic  cham 
ber  where  people  out  of  history  and  the 
story-books  kept  my  heart  up  and  in  good 
company. 

One  night  I  lay  in  bed,  hearing  the  rain  as 
it  beat  over  the  roofs  and  against  the  window- 


THE   MASTER  5 

panes  when,  suddenly,  there  came  a  rap  at 
my  door. 

"Who's  there?"  I  demanded,  starting  out 
of  bed. 

As  I  got  no  answer  I  repeated  my  call  and 
stood  a  moment  listening.  I  could  hear 
nothing,  however,  but  the  wind  and  the  rain. 
Having  lighted  a  candle  I  dressed  myself  with 
all  haste  and  opened  the  door,  beyond  which 
I  could  discern  the  figure  of  an  old  man  in 
the  hallway.  Was  he  a  straggler  who  had 
got  in  at  the  street  door?  I  asked  myself;  and 
listened  for  the  familiar  voice  of  importunity. 
The  old  man  approached  me,  and  my  wonder 
grew,  for  he  was  not  a  mendicant,  as  I  had 
guessed,  but  an  old  gentleman  in  stock  and 
collar  and  a  suit  of  broadcloth,  cut  in  the 
fashion  of  my  grandfather's  time.  His  hair 
was  white,  his  face  pale,  his  clothes  dripping. 
He  put  his  finger  on  his  lips  and  shook  his 
head.  I  liked  not  his  silence,  at  such  an  hour 
of  the  night,  and  drew  back  involuntarily  a  step 
or  two,  although  my  pity  should  have  drawn 
me  toward  him. 

"Sit  down,"  I  said,  "and  tell  me  what  I 
can  do  for  you. " 

Still  he  made  no  reply,  but  sank  into  the 
chair  I  offered  and  felt  in  his  pocket  and 


6  THE   MASTER 

withdrew  a  leathern  wallet.  He  opened  it 
and  found  a  letter  which  he  presented  to  me. 
It  was  directed  to  my  father,  Kendric  Holm, 
Esq.,  at  the  street  and  number  in  London 
where  he  had  lived  for  half  a  century.  The 
address  had  been  crossed  and  my  own  added 
in  the  familiar  handwriting  of  our  old  butler: 
"22  Kirkland  Street,  Liverpool,  top  floor." 

It  all  seemed  very  strange  to  me,  for  my 
father  had  been  six  years  in  his  grave.  The 
old  gentleman  smiled  and  nodded  as  I  exam 
ined  the  superscription.  He  took  a  small 
slate  from  his  pocket  and  wrote  hastily: 

"Are  you  his  son?" 

I  nodded  and  said,  "Yes." 

Then  he  wrote  the  words,  "Open  and  read 
the  letter."  So  I  broke  its  seal  and  there 
was  my  call  into  the  long  thoroughfare  of 
my  life  story.  It  bore  the  date  of  March  5, 
1879,  and  no  indication  of  the  place  whence 
it  came: 

DEAR  BROTHER: 

I  need  your  help.  Come  to  me  at  once. 
Consequences  of  moment  to  me,  to  you 
and  to  all  men  depend  upon  your  coming 
promptly.  Let  nothing  stand  in  your 
way.  You  shall  be  well  repaid  for  any 


THE   MASTER  7 

sacrifice  of  time  or  money  that  my  wish 
involves.  The  bearer  who  leaves  to-day 
on  his  way  down  to  the  sea  will  bring  you 
here.  He  is  provided  with  funds.  Fol 
low  him  and  bring  no  one  with  you  and 
come  as  soon  as  you  can.  .  If,  perchance, 
you  be  ill  or  dead,  even,  this  letter  is  for 
your  son  whom  I  shall  welcome  as  I 
would  welcome  you. 

From  your  loving  brother, 
DAVID  HOLM. 

I  had  often  heard  my  father  speak  of  his 
brother  David — now  my  nearest  relative — who 
had  gone  to  America  long  before  I  was  born. 
We  had  had  no  news  of  him  since  I  was  a  little 
lad,  just  out  of  the  nursery.  In  a  package 
of  old  letters,  which  my  father  had  given  to 
me,  were  two  from  this  brother  of  his,  and  I 
remembered  their  postmark  and  their  brevity 
and  the  antique  quality  of  their  script.  He 
was  a  doctor  in  Detroit  wrhen  those  letters 
were  written.  Here  was  the  odd  and  unmis 
takable  handwriting  with  which  I  had  been 
long  familiar. 

Singular  as  the  message  was,  the  messenger 
was  more  so.  I  soon  discovered  that  he  could 
neither  hear  nor  speak,  and  that  he  wished  to 


8  THE   MASTER 

know  my  answer.  I  brought  some  dry 
clothes  from  my  wardrobe,  but  he  would  not 
touch  them  until  I  had  written  these  words  for 
him  on  the  slate: 

"I  will  go  with  you." 

His  face  glowed  with  pleasure  as  he  took 
my  hand.  Then  he  looked  about  him  and 
shook  his  head  and  wrote: 

"You  shall  have  a  better  home.  He  is 
rich  and  some  day  you  may  be  his  lieir. " 

He  took  a  hundred-pound  note  from  his 
pocket  and  gave  it  to  me. 

"Go  to-morrow,  and  get  passage  on  first 
steamer,"  he  wrote. 

I  invited  him  to  sleep  in  my  bed,  and  he 
answered  that  he  was  ill  and  would  be  glad 
to  rest  until  morning. 

He  would  stop,  now  and  then,  as  lie  was 
getting  ready  for  bed  and  put  his  hand  to  his 
side  and  shake  his  head  ruefully.  He  lay 
in  bed  at  last,  and  I  was  about  to  go  for  a 
doctor,  when  he  beckoned  to  me,  and  then 
this  dialogue,  with  the  aid  of  slate  and  pencil: 

"Don't  leave  me,"  he  wrote,  and  I  thought 
it  an  odd  request. 

"When  did  you  reach  England?"  was  my 
query. 

"March  19th,  by  the  Northland"  he  wrote. 


THE   MASTER  9 

Soon  he  added:  "Started  from  the  inn  before 
dark  and  missed  my  way." 

By  and  by  he  put  the  slate  under  his  pillow 
and  closed  his  eyes,  and  when  I  saw  him 
resting  quietly  I  lowered  the  lamplight  and 
lay  down  upon  a  sofa  and  fell  asleep.  A 
strange  cry  awoke  me.  The  sun  was  shining 
and  the  room  very  still.  I  rose  and 
found  the  stranger  lying  dead  where  I  had 
left  him  when  I  went  to  my  couch  soon  after 
midnight.  The  slate  and  pencil  were  in  his 
hands  and  the  former  bore  this  unfinished 
message: 

"Our  home  is  at  Lac " 

Death  had  cut  him  off  in  the  midst  of  it,  for 
the  last  letters  showed  the  weakening  of  his 
hand,  and  sprawled  to  the  edge  of  the  slate, 
and  I  could  scarcely  read  them. 

So  it  was  that  my  mystery  and  my  quest 
began. 


CHAPTER  II 

1HAD  taken  quarters  at  the  Silver  Mug,  in 
New  York,  an  odd  little  inn  with  trees  and 
shaded  tables  on  either  side  of  a  walk  that 
led  to  its  front  door.  There  people  sat  long 
over  their  food  and  wine,  of  a  summer  evening, 
and  forgot  the  day.  Many  strange  and  curi 
ous  people  made  their  home  at  the  Mug  - 
actors,  musicians,  artists,  and  a  certain  poet 
who  borrowed  eighty  dollars  from  me,  with 
which  to  produce  a  tragedy,  and  nearly  suc 
ceeded,  for  the  sum  had  touched  the  bottom 
of  my  purse.  There  my  days  were  enlivened 
by  the  Mug's  talent  labouring  with  its  tech 
nique  on  the  xylophone,  the  cornet  or  the 
banjo,  and  my  nights  by  roistering  home- 
comers  after  the  play. 

I  had  been  permitted  to  keep  the  hundred 
pounds  which  the  messenger  of  my  uncle  had 
given  to  me,  and  that  sum  and  I  had  begun 
our  adventures.  I  had  found  it  a  feeble  and 
failing  partner,  and  one  summer  evening 
when  I  sat  rather  hopeless  in  the  garden  of 
the  Silver  Mug,  eating  my  dinner,  a  small, 

10 


THE   MASTER  11 

grizzly,  serious-looking  man,  with  a  stiff  leg 
and  a  weather-beaten  face  of  many  scars  and 
wrinkles,  limped  along  the  garden  walk,  his 
cane  clanking  on  the  stone  flags,  and  sat  down 
at  my  table.  He  had  a  nose  which  invited 
thoughtful  contemplation  and  suggested  thrill 
ing  incidents.  It  had  been  broken  in  the  middle 
and  twisted  to  one  side  and  turned  up  at  the 
end.  I  observed,  also,  that  the  skin  of  his 
hands  was  rough  and  hairy.  He  looked  about 
the  place  with  the  air  of  a  dog  fancier  survey 
ing  a  litter  of  pups  and  with  no  high  opinion 
of  them.  His  small  gray  eyes,  that  were  deep- 
set,  under  a  line  of  grizzled  fur  that  crossed 
the  base  of  his  forehead,  settled  on  a  waiter 
who  stood  some  feet  away.  He  summoned 
him  by  tapping  on  the  floor  with  his  cane, 
and  demanded  to  know,  first,  in  a  domineer 
ing  fashion,  if  he  were  to  be  kept  waiting  all 
day,  and  next  if  he  could  have  scallops  and 
bacon. 

The  waiter  consulted  the  bill  and  nodded, 
and  the  newcomer  went  on  with  a  playful 
wink  of  his  eye: 

"Steer  'em  up  alongside,  sonny,  with  some 
taters  an'  a  bottle  o'  gin." 

He  looked  across  at  me  and  winked  one 
eye  again,  and  I  could  scarcely  keep  my 


12  THE   MASTER 

countenance  on  account  of  his  odd  behaviour. 
While  he  sat  waiting  he  smacked  his  lips  and 
ground  his  teeth  together,  and  picked  up  a 
table-knife  and  felt  its  edge  with  his  thumb. 

Soon  a  woman  passed  us.  His  eyes  fol 
lowed  her,  and  he  gave  a  low  whistle  and 
leaned  toward  me  and  whispered  confiden 
tially:  "Neat  rigged  an'  tidy!" 

I  made  no  answer  but  turned  to  the  old  sea 
dog  —  for  such  I  took  him  to  be  —  a  bit 
angry  at  his  rudeness. 

"Wai,  what's  the  matter  o'  you,  my 
pippin?"  he  asked  in  a  pouncing  manner. 

"'My  pippin!"  I  exclaimed  with  resent 
ment.  "Pardon  me,  sir,  but  you  will  please 
excuse  me  from  being  your  'pippin." 

He  had  addressed  me  and  the  waiter  as  if 
we  had  been  the  veriest  slaves  in  his  household. 

"I  mean  it  friendly,"  he  answered,  with  a 
stern  glance  and  a  wink  of  challenge.  He 
speared  a  pickle  with  a  quick  jab  of  his 
fork  and  added:  "Don't  git  on  the  high 
ropes.  Leave  the  cap'n  alone.  He's  been 
to  sea  an'  ain't  seen  a  lady  fer  three  year  an' 
when  they  swish  by  they  tech  his  feelinks, 
an'  he  speaks  'em  -  -  that's  what  he  does. 
Hell's  bells!  If  I  had  steam  in  me  an*  a 
whistle  on  the  smoke-stack  I'd  give  a  toot  ev'ry 


THE   MASTER  13 

time  I  seen  a  lady  go  by  —  so  I  would  an'  no 
wonder." 

I  began  to  regard  him  with  increasing 
sympathy  and  respect.  It  was  only  a  rough 
sort  of  sea  courtesy  which  had  provoked  my 
anger,  and  I  was  appeased. 

"Once  in  a  while  they  fling  a  harpoon 
right  into  my  vitals  and  give  a  yank  on  the 
line,"  he  added  with  a  slow  wink.  "An*  I've 
had  'em  tow  me  hellwards  out  o'  my  course, 
matey,  'fore  I  cut  loose  an'  let  'em  go." 

He  whetted  his  knife  on  the  edge  of  his  plate 
for  half  a  moment  and  added:  "I  like  the 
looks  on  'em  an'  the  sound  on  'em  when  they 
go  by  —  some  kind  o'  proud  an'  purty  — 
like  a  schooner  in  new  sails,  an'  I've  had  'em 
git  mad  an'  smash  me  in  the  eye,  an'  do  ye 
think  I  hits  'em  back ?  No!  not  Cap'n  Rog  o' 
the  Susq,  says  I  —  not  never,  an'  that's  the 
truth.  He'll  take  anythink  f'm  a  lady." 

He  broke  off  a  piece  of  bread  and  stuffed 
his  mouth  and  went  on  with  a  bulge  in  his 
left  cheek.  "They  bring  the  man  out  of  a 
lad.  As  soon  as  we  come  ashore  an'  git  a 
look  at  'em  we  begin  t'  step  high.  Look  a' 
that  ring." 

He  showed  me  a  cheap  seal  ring  on  the  little 
finger  of  his  left  hand. 


14  THE   MASTER 

'Two  dollars!"  he  whispered  with  a  wink; 
"but  I'll  make  it  pay  me  ten  to  one — you 
mind  what  I  say." 

He  #ave  IIH-  ;i  >!mrt  talk  on  the  fjiir  "sect" 
and  its  liking  for  "nicknacks"  and,  having 
eaten  his  dinner,  touched  his  stiff  knee,  and 
said  with  a  look  and  a  tone  that  seemed  to 
complain  of  his  ill  luck:  "'Ain't  what  I  used 
to  be  since  I  got  a  >ny  in  my  leg." 

He  spoke  the  words,  "sny  in  my  leg,"  with 
squinting  eyes  and  the  same  tone  of  com 
plaint  as  before.  I  took  it  to  mean  a  slight 
but  permanent  bend. 

Soon  he  lifted  the  stiff  leg  to  the  seat  of  a 
chair  beside  him,  scratched  a  match  on  his 
rough  palm  and  covered  its  blaze  with  his 
knotty  fingers,  as  if  he  were  out  in  the  wind, 
and  lighted  a  stogy.  Then  he  puffed  thought 
fully  a  moment  and  resumed  his  reflections 
on  the  peculiar  powers  and  capacities  of 
women. 

"There's  no  time  that  a  rnan'll  fight  like 
when  a  lady  stan's  by  an'  puts  in  a  word 
good  an'  frequent,"  he  began. 

That  started  him  on  a  thrilling  tale  about 
"a  one-eyed  lady,"  who  had  been  cook  of 
the  Susq  and  who  had  assisted  him  in  a  battle 
with  mutineers.  This  energetic  and  cyclo- 


THE   MASTER  15 

pean  lady  held  me  when  I  had  been  about  to 
leave  the  table,  and  really  assisted  fate  as  well 
as  the  Captain,  for  although  I  should  have 
been  thinking  of  better  things  he  soon  had 
me  by  the  ears,  so  to  speak,  and  my  heart  beat 
ing  like  a  trip-hammer.  He  owned  a  big 
schooner  called  the  Susquehanna,  and  had  just 
arrived  from  Mexico,  so  he  told  me,  with  a 
load  of  pelts.  His  name  was  Roger  Rone 
and  he  explained: 

"Some  calls  me  Rog  Rone  (he  gave  the  g 
its  hard  sound),  an'  some  calls  me  Cap'n 
Rog,  an*  you  can  call  me  any  think  if  ye  say 
it  friendly." 

Born  on  the  Bowery  nearly  sixty  years  before, 
of  an  Yankee  mother  and  an  English  father, 
both  of  sea-faring  stock,  as  he  told  me,  Rone 
had  run  away  in  his  boyhood  and  shipped 
before  the  mast. 

We  sat  together  until  the  evening  had 
passed  and  he  told  me  tales  of  the  sea  and 
smote  the  table  with  a  clenched  fist,  and 
winked  an  eye  sternly  when  he  came  to  his 
fights  and  quarrels,  and  often  shook  his  rough 
knuckles  under  my  nose,  and  once  threatened 
me  with  his  bottle,  to  show  me  how  he  had 
laid  about  him  with  a  broadsword.  I  thought 
of  leaving  two  or  three  times,  but  soon  we  had 


16  THE   MASTER 

the  place  to  ourselves,  and  I  must  confess 
that  his  adventures  were  like  a  wonderful 
story-book. 

The  talented  guests  of  the  Mug  had  begun 
to  return  from  concert  hall  and  theatre  when 
he  invited  me  to  his  lodgings  to  spend  "the 
sweet  o'  the  night,"  and  added  by  way  of 
argument: 

"It  ain't  often  that  I  takes  a  fancy  to  any 
person  like  I  done  to  you.  I'll  show  ye  some 
little  trinkets,  as  I  calls  'em,  which  are  real 
particular  fine  an'  no  mistake,  Cappy." 

I  wanted  to  know  more  of  this  singular  man 
and  so  accepted  his  invitation. 

We  left  the  Mug  and  he  clanked  along 
beside  me  with  his  heavy  cane  at  a  pace  that 
made  me  hurry.  In  this  manner  and  with 
scarcely  a  word  passing  between  us  we  walked 
to  Bleecker  Street  and,  turning  westward, 
continued  our  tramp  for  a  matter  of  five  or 
six  minutes.  Soon  my  leader  opened  an  iron 
gate  and  I  followed  up  the  steps  of  a  dingy 
brick  dwelling.  I  could  see  a  dim  light  on 
the  painted  window-panes  of  the  first  floor 
above  the  basement,  and  the  links  of  a  chain, 
cut  gracefully  in  the  paint  that  covered  the 
glass,  shone  like  gold  as  they  let  out  the  light 
within. 


THE   MASTER  17 

The  Cap'n  thrust  a  key  into  the  door  and 
we  entered  as  it  swung  open.  A  gas-jet 
lighted  the  hall  within,  the  bare  floor  of  which 
was  creaky  and  worn  with  much  coming  and 
going.  Its  walls  had  once  been  covered  with 
blue  paper,  now  dirt-stained  and  partly 
stripped  away.  Through  a  sliding  door,  half 
open,  I  could  see  a  number  of  men  playing 
cards  at  a  big  round  table  —  rough-faced, 
big-handed  men,  plainly  clad,  who  peered 
through  the  door  at  us.  Instantly  the  thought 
came  to  me  that  I  had  done  a  foolish  thing, 
coming  to  such  a  place  alone  with  a  stranger, 
for  this  part  of  Bleecker  Street  was  none  too 
respectable,  as  I  knew.  But  after  all  it  was 
probably  some  lodge  or  club  of  working  men 
who  were  now  engaged  in  harmless  recreation, 
I  thought.  The  Cap'n  reassured  me  by 
saying: 

"Take  a  look  at  the  club  room,  Cappy. 
It's  a  snug  place  and  no  mistake." 

We  stood  in  its  half-open  door  and  surveyed 
the  room.  It  was  furnished  like  the  best  room 
in  a  cheap  tenement  —  tawdry  colours  in 
plush  upholstery  and  carpet.  A  stack  of  camp 
chairs  in  the  corner,  suggested  a  place  of 
assembly.  A  plain  kitchen  table  covered 
with  trades  union  and  socialistic  books  and 


18  THE   MASTER 

papers  stood  near  the  door.  A  portrait 
caught  my  eye  and  held  it  until  we  left  the 
room  —  a  man's  head  and  shoulders  with 
a  wonderful  strength  and  repose  in  them. 
The  expression  of  the  head  and  body,  and 
especially  that  of  the  strong  brave  eyes,  was 
lion-like  and  impressive. 

"Jack  Condon,"  said  the  Cap'n  as  I 
raised  my  finger.  "Some  calls  him  the  Devil, 
an'  no  wonder." 

"And  what  is  your  club?" 

'The  T'ilers,"  he  answered,  as  he  limped 
into  the  hall  ahead  of  me,  and  up  a  creaking 
stairway. 

At  the  top  of  the  last  flight  and  rather  close 
under  the  roof  he  unlocked  a  door  and  entered 
a  dark  room  while  I  waited  on  the  landing. 
As  he  turned  the  key  a  loud  chattering  and  a 
burst  of  maudlin,  careless  laughter  rose  within. 
An  odour,  like  that  of  a  monkey  house,  came 
from  the  open  doorway.  My  companion  was 
crossing  the  dark  room  when  I  heard  him  trip 
and  fall  clattering  on  the  floor.  He  rose  with 
a  loud  oath  and  struck  a  match  and  lighted  a 
gas-jet.  I  entered  and  saw  a  large  attic  room 
which  extended  from  the  front  to  the  rear 
walls  of  the  building.  The  Cap'n  felt  his 
l.i me  leg  and  limped  sorely  to  the  side  of  an 


THE   MASTER  19 

old  lounge  and  threw  down  his  hat.  A  great 
green  parrot  chained  to  a  pole  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  room  laughed  uproariously.  The 
Cap'n  raised  his  cane,  and  as  he  struck  the  air 
with  it,  a  blade  some  eight  inches  long  darted 
from  its  ferrule  and  clicked  into  a  socket.  He 
poised  the  stout  stick  in  his  right  hand 
and  gave  it  a  fling  above  his  shoulder, 
reeling  a  little  on  his  sound  leg  with  arms 
extended  as  the  weapon  left  his  hand.  It 
flew  straight  at  the  bird's  breast  and  cut 
through  its  body.  The  Cap'n  limped  across 
the  room  and  deliberately  drew  the  knife  from 
its  wound  and  finished  the  bird  with  a  blow. 

"Ye  will  laugh  at  the  Cap'n  —  will  ye?" 
he  muttered.  '  Ye're  all  tryin'  to  walk  on  the 
Cap'n,  so  ye  are,  the  hull  bunch  o'  ye." 

He  took  an  old,  rusty  broadsword  from  a 
little  table  and  approached  a  small  sheet- 
iron  stove  that  stood  a  few  feet  away  from 
the  doorway. 

"Ye  just  reached  out  with  this  'ere  leg 
o'  yours  to  ketch  the  foot  o'  the  Cap'n,  so  ye 
did,"  he  declared,  as  he  fetched  the  stove  a 
whack  that  made  it  reel  half  about  and  settle 
down  with  a  kind  of  shudder.  Another  blow 
and  the  pipe  came  apart  and  a  length  of  the 
same  with  the  stove  tumbled  noisily  on  the 


20  THE   MASTER 

floor.  Then  the  Cap'n  continued  his  talk, 
emphasizing  his  words  now  and  then  with  a 
blow  of  the  broadsword:  'You  says  to  yer- 
self  the  Cap'n  '11  be  back  by  an'  by  an'  if 
he  don't  think  to  strike  a  match  as  soon  as 
ever  he  opens  the  door,  you  says,  I'll  lay  here 
in  the  dark  an'  stick  out  my  leg  an'  trip  him. 
You  thinks  an'  you  says  he  can't  never  do 
nothink  to  me,  the  Cap'n  can't.  I'm  iron  an* 
I'll  just  give  him  one  —  that's  what  I'll  do. 
An'  ye  done  it  spiteful  --ye  did  -  a  if  now 
the  Cap'n  has  got  his  say.  Hell's  bells!  you're 
a  tidy  bit  of  a  stove,  you  are.  Now  you've 
learnt  suthink  'bout  the  Cap'n  an'  I  wouldn't 
wonder." 

The  stove  lay  dented  and  crumpled  into 
utter  shapelessness. 

The  Cap'n  threw  down  his  sword  and  lifted 
the  crumpled  stove  in  his  arms  and  lugged  it 
across  the  room  and  balanced  it  on  the  sill  of 
an  open  window  and  kicked  it  into  the  dark 
ness  beyond.  The  stove  fell  crashing  on  a  fence 
in  the  back  yard  and  bounded  to  the  earth. 

A  gruff  voice  shouted  from  the  hall  below, 
"Aw  -what's  -de  -matter  -wid  -ye  ?"  and  the 
query  was  swiftly  put  as  if  it  were  all  one  word. 

The  Cap'n  limped  to  the  mantel  shelf  and 
stood  silently  filling  his  pipe. 


THE    MASTER  21 

"I  won't  be  picked  on  by  no  stove  what 
ever,"  he  explained  when  the  smoke  was 
coming.  "I  never  done  nothink  to  that  stove 
but  black  its  boots  and  buy  coal  for  it.  I 
s'pose  it  didn't  know  no  better.  Hell's  bells! 
but  I'm  fond  of  a  row,  shipmate.  It  must 
look  like  I'm  crazy,  but  I  can't  help  it.  I 
have  to  fight  with  suthink  every  day  an' 
that's  the  God's  truth.  I  hain't  like  nobody 
you  ever  seen  afore.  I'd  fight  a  hole  in  the 
ground  if  it  didn't  treat  me  proper  an.'  ev'ry 
day  in  the  year  I  fight  the  gov'ment." 

"What  government?"  I  asked. 

"Ev'ry  gov'ment,"  he  answered  with  a 
wink.  " They're  all  rotten.  They've  got  their 
feet  on  the  neck  o'  the  poor  man,  Cappy — 
the  world  over  an'  no  mistake.  I'm  for  the 
under  dog." 

"I  don't  believe  I'd  like  to  fight  with  you," 
I  said.  "You  certainly  know  how  to  use  the 
sword-cane." 

He  opened  a  closet  door  and  hauled  out  a 
kind  of  scarecrow  figure  —  made  by  stuffing 
an  old  suit  with  straw  —  and  stood  it  up  in 
a  corner.  Then  he  stepped  back  as  far  as 
possible  and  asked  where  I  would  have  him 
plant  his  knife. 

"Aim  at  the  heart,"  I  said. 


22  THE   MASTER 

Again  he  poised  the  weapon  and  again 
it  sped  like  an  arrow  as  he  flung  and  balanced 
on  his  good  leg  and  his  blade  pierced  the  left 
breast  of  the  lay  figure.  He  continued  to 
throw  this  deadly  knife  at  the  stuffed  suit 
until  the  coat  of  the  latter  was  cut  to  rags. 

"Left  leg,  plum  on  the  knee,  Cap'n," 
he  would  shout  as  he  flung  his  weapon. 
"Through  the  hold,  Cap'n,"  "Abaft  the 
neck,  oP  friendy,"  and  so  he  went  on  with 
surprising  energy  and  unerring  aim. 

He  seemed  to  be  vain  of  his  skill  and  sat 
down  beside  me  with  a  wink  and  began 
filling  his  pipe  again.  A  monkey  crept 
from  under  the  lounge  where  he  had  been 
hiding. 

"Ho   there,    shipmate,"   said    the    Cap'n, 
"you  slipped  below  till  the  storm  was  over  - 
so  ye  done.     Hell's  bells!     I'm  glad  ye  lived 
through  it." 

The  monkey  approached  him  rather  tim 
idly  and  seeing  no  threat  in  his  face  or  hand 
soon  climbed  to  his  knee. 

"Picked  up  all  kinds  o'  trinkets  in  my 
travel,"  said  the  Cap'n,  as  he  lifted  from  his 
mantel  a  small  wooden  box  about  four  inches 
long  by  three  in  width,  one  side  of  which 
was  covered  with  close-set  bars  of  fine  wire. 


THE   MASTER  23 

Evidently  it  was  the  home  of  some  tiny 
prisoner. 

"Now  ye  never  seen  the  like  o'  that,  I  dare 
presume  to  say,"  remarked  the  Cap'n  as  he 
lighted  a  candle  and  held  it  close  to  the  wire 
bars.  Its  light  showed  me  a  great,  hairy 
tarantula  scurrying  about  the  sand-covered 
bottom  of  the  box. 

He  inserted  a  small  stick  and  challenged 
this  dreadful  pet  of  his,  which  immediately 
rose  on  its  hind  legs  in  a  threatening  attitude 
and  uncovered  its  fangs. 

"Say,  cappy,"  said  my  companion,  "if 
ye  had  an  enemy  an'  ye  could  spare  'im 
as  well  as  not  an'  was  to  let  this  old  boy 
loose  in  his  bedroom  there'd  be  trouble,  an' 
I  wouldn't  wonder." 

The  Cap'n  looked  into  my  face  and  winked 
knowingly.  Then  he  showed  me  a  box  of  scor 
pions  and  gave  me  some  account  of  their  habits 
and  particularly  of  their  way  of  stinging. 

In  the  midst  of  this  he  was  interrupted  by  a 
loud  rap.  He  quickly  put  away  his  pets 
and  limped  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

"  Why — why — up  — upon  my  soul  an'  body 
it's  — it's  the  shoemaker,"  he  stammered,  as  if 
surprised  and  embarrassed  in  no  small  degree 
by  the  man  who  confronted  him. 


>4  THE   MASTER 

There  in  the  open  door  stood  as  handsome 
a  youth  as  ever  I  looked  upon.  His  large, 
blue  eyes  were  clear  as  a  cloudless  noonday; 
his  wavy  light  hair  was  parted  neatly  over  a 
broad  forehead;  his  skin  was  weathered 
brown,  his  nose  and  mouth  finely  modelled. 
He  was,  I  judged,  some  two  or  three  years 
younger  than  I. 

He  strode  into  the  room  without  a  word 
to  the  Cap'n  and  took  my  hand. 

"This  is  Mr.  Holm,"  he  said,  "and  I  — I 
am  Ben  Lovel." 

"I  do  not  remember  to  have  met  you," 
I  said. 

"No,  but  I  have  seen  you  often  and  could 
not  help  knowing  your  name." 

"It  is  very  late  and  I  think  that  I  must 
go,"  I  said  rising. 

The  newcomer  passed  a  note  to  Cap'n 
Rone  and  turned  to  me  and  said: 

"If  you  will  let  me  I  will  walk  to  your  inn 
with  you." 

I  gladly  accepted  his  offer  and  the  Cap'n 
limped  to  the  door  with  us  where  we  bade 
him  good  night. 

An  old  man  with  long,  white  beard  and 
hair  stood  waiting  near  the  foot  of  the  steps. 

"This    is   my   old   master,    Horton,"   said 


THE   MASTER  25 

the  youth  as  we  three  set  out  together.  "I 
saw  you  coming  here  with  Cap'n  Rog.  I 
thought  it  rather  strange  and  followed  you." 

The  words  puzzled  me  and  I  thought  a 
moment  and  said,  because  I  knew  not  what 
else  to  say: 

"Yes?" 

"Yes;  I  was  troubled  and  some  day  you 
shall  know  why." 

It  was  clear  that  he  knew  more  of  the  Cap'n 
than  he  cared  to  tell,  and  wished  to  give  me 
a  word  of  warning. 

"You  do  not  know  The  Toilers?" 

"No." 

"Why  not  join  the  order?" 

"Is  it  a  good  thing?" 

"No,  and  that's  why  I'm  a  member  and 
why  you  should  be." 

We  walked  in  silence  for  a  moment  or 
more  and  then  he  whispered: 

"Speak  not  of  all  this  that  I  have  said,  and 
come  and  see  me. " 

He  put  a  card  in  my  hand  and  as  we  were 
now  at  the  gate  of  the  Silver  Mug  I  bade 
them  good  night. 


CHAPTER  III 

IN  THINKING  of  what  I  should  do,  now 
that  my  money  was  nearly  spent,  I  had 
thought  more  than  once  of  trying  to  write  for 
the  newspapers.  I  had  written  sketches  of 
some  length  in  a  sort  of  diary,  in  which  my  ob 
servations  had  been  recorded,  and  some  little 
conceit  had  begun  to  grow  in  me.  I  set  down 
in  this  book,  for  I  had  nothing  else  to  do,  a 
long  account  of  the  Cap'n  and  of  his  adven 
tures  on  land  and  sea  and  of  his  lodgings. 
The  next  time  I  saw  Rone  in  the  Mug  I  took 
him  to  my  room  and  sat  him  down  and  read 
aloud  the  sketch  that  I  had  written.  He  \vas 
greatly  pleased  and  flattered  me  by  saying 
that  "it  read  like  print,"  and  suggested  that 
like  as  not  it  would  bring  me  good  money. 
I  thought  and  still  think  that  I  had  done 
fairly  well  for  one  of  my  practice  and  so,  having 
the  Cap'n's  leave,  I  copied  my  sketch  and  took 
it  to  the  editor  of  the  Sun. 

He  read  it  while  I  sat  just  beyond  the  first 
line  of  defence  against  besieging  talent  in  the 
city  room.  He  sent  for  me,  by  and  by,  and 


THE   MASTER  27 

I  was  led  safely  past  the  low  wooden  barrier 
in  among  the  seats  of  the  mighty,  as  I  regarded 
them.  Then  a  few  words  from  the  great  man, 
a  scratch  or  two  of  his  pencil,  and  presto!  my 
plan  of  life  had  changed.  It  was  a  three-sided 
compliment  that  he  gave  me,  being  composed 
of  a  word  of  praise,  a  request  for  more  copy, 
and  an  order  on  the  cashier.  Here  was  a 
mine  of  treasure  beyond  the  cashier's  window 
and  I  would  dig  into  it  and  save  myself  from 
destitution,  if  possible,  for  I  had  begun  to 
feel  like  the  Dutchman  who  neglected  his 
cabbages  to  look  for  hidden  gold. 

I  got  along  fairly  well.  Soon  there  were 
some  who  called  me  a  "star"  but  alas!  it  was 
a  faint  twinkle  if  any  that  I  had  in  me.  I 
was  all  too  capable,  however,  and  soon  won 
my  way  into  the  Impossible  Club.  There 
were  five  graceless  good  fellows  in  the  Club. 

We  dined  together  every  Saturday  in  some 
cozy  place  and  discussed  the  last  play  or  the 
latest  novel  and  a  night  came  when  one  of  the 
party  read  a  poem  of  his  own  manufacture. 
At  our  next  meeting  another  retaliated  with 
a  short  tale  and  that  lead  to  graver  crimes. 

One  day  I  went  to  see  the  shoemaker  whom 
I  had  met  at  the  Cap'n's  lodgings,  a  pleasure 
which  my  busy  life  had  denied  me  for  some 


28  THE   MASTER 

weeks.  I  found  him  in  an  odd  corner  of  the 
city  called  Kerrigan  Place.  His  shop  was 
above  a  hanging  stair  on  the  front  of  an  old 
brick  building  with  an  ironmongery  in  its  base 
ment.  He  sat  at  his  bench  mending  a  pair 
of  shoes  and  greeted  me  warmly. 

"I've  heard  of  your  success,"  he  said. 
"Darklight  has  told  me  and  he  has  promised 
to  take  me  to  dine  with  your  little  club  some 
evening." 

'You  will  have  a  hearty  welcome,"  I  said. 

"I  like  to  hear  about  books  and  the  men 
who  make  them.  Have  you  read  the  new 
book  of  which  the  papers  have  said  so  much  ? 
Its  title  is  "Brothers?" 

"No,  but  we  were  speaking  of  that  book 
at  our  last  dinner.  Most  of  the  boys  have 
read  it." 

"And  do  they  like  it?" 

"They  speak  of  it  with  a  kind  of  reverence, 
as  if  it  were  one  of  the  few  inspired  books,  and 
of  the  mystery  of  its  authorship  as  if  it  were 
like  that  of  the  tablets  of  stone. " 

The  shoemaker  smiled. 

"It  is  no  mystery  to  me,"  he  said.  "I 
know  the  author." 

"I  wish  that  I  knew  him." 

"And  you  shall,"  he  answered  as  he  worked. 


THE   MASTER  39 

"If  you  tell  your  readers  that  it  is  a  certain 
great  man  of  the  name  of  John  Condon  you 
will  please  him  and  do  no  injustice.  There 
is  no  longer  any  reason  for  concealment." 

"It's  an  important  bit  of  news,"  I  said,  "a 
feature  for  the  first  page  under  a  spread  head. 
Tell  me  of  this  great  man." 

"My  friend,  let  us  save  words,"  said  the 
shoemaker.  "I  will  take  you  to  see  him  and 
you  shall  make  your  own  opinions  and  then 
I  shall  have  something  to  say." 

"When?" 

"To-night." 

"Our  club  meets  to-night,"  I  said. 
'You  can  go  to  the  club,  for  we  cannot  see 
my  master  until  midnight." 

"And  if  you  will  dine  with  us  we  can  leave 
the  club  in  good  time."  I  urged. 

"I  cannot  dine  with  you,"  he  answered, 
"but  if  you  will  call  for  me  at  nine  I  will  go 
with  you  to  meet  your  friends." 

I  left  the  shoemaker,  having  agreed  to  call 
for  him  at  nine,  and  as  I  reached  the  pavement 
a  quaint  inn,  with  an  old  lantern  hanging 
over  its  steps,  caught  my  eye.  It  was  opposite 
the  little  shop  in  one  of  the  oddest  nooks  of  the 
old  city.  I  entered  for  a  bite  of  luncheon  and 
so  discovered  the  future  home  of  our  club. 


30  THE   MASTER 

That  evening  we  met  at  the  "Hole  in  the 
Wall "  -  a  cozy  place  of  refreshment  back  of 
Temple  Court  where  I  spoke  of  my  dis 
covery  and  we  set  out  for  the  Lanthorne  in 
Kerrigan  Place.  The  night  had  fallen  dark 
and  misty  and  we  tramped  through  silent 
and  deserted  streets  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
town  and,  by  and  by,  had  filed  into  the  nar 
row'  entrance  of  Kerrigan  Place.  It  was  not 
half  a  block  long  and  the  brick  walls  on 
cither  side  of  it  came  together  in  a  curve  at 
the  end.  Our  footsteps  filled  the  little  street 
with  echoes. 

We  halted,  suddenly,  under  the  lantern  sign 
before  a  low,  wide  window  of  small  panes 
beyond  which  wre  could  see  the  shine  of 
glasses  and  the  flicker  of  an  open  wood  fire. 
"The  Lanthorne"  was  the  name  painted  on  a 
panel  of  its  door. 

It  was  a  kind  of  half-way  house  between 
old  times  and  the  present,  and  its  ancient, 
Dutch  door  opened  on  a  merry  world.  That 
door  had  been  built  for  men  who  had  big 
stomachs  and  nothing  to  do  but  fill  them,  and 
heads  not  too  far  above  their  business,  so 
that  the  tallest  of  us  had  to  pay  a  toll  of  rever 
ence  on  its  threshold.  A  stout  and  cheery- 
faced  man  in  a  white  apron  came  from  behind 


THE   MASTER  31 

the   little  bar  as  we  entered  and  gave  us  a 
hearty  welcome. 

"This  way,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  as  he  led 
us  through  the  cafe,  in  which  a  dozen  people 
or  so  had  got  to  their  cognac  and  tobacco, 
into  a  small  private  room  where  a  table  was 
spread  for  six.  And  how  well  spread!  - 
gold-wrought  glasses  by  every  plate  and  in  the 
centre  a  great  vase  of  flowers  and  platters  of 
snowy  celery!  We  chortled  and  exchanged 
glances. 

"Is  this  a  cocktail  that  I  see  before  me?" 
said  Pipps  tragically.  "Come,  let  me  clutch 
thee." 

"Or  is  it  but  a  cocktail  of  the  mind?  — 
a  false  creation  proceeding  from  the  heat- 
oppressed  brain?"  Lengthy  Higgins  added, 
as  he  raised  his  glass. 

We  all  looked  into  his  face,  distinguished 
by  its  sadness,  its  large,  round  spectacles  and 
its  full  beard,  and  laughed,  for  no  one  ever 
looked  at  him  without  laughing. 

"Alas!  I  fear  it  will  cost  much  gold," 
said  James  Darklight  known  as  "Jimmy." 
"Some  of  you  will  have  to  stake  me." 

In  came  a  waiter  with  blue  points  and 
another  with  old  sherry. 

"Some  of  us  can  write  like  angels  and  some 


32  THE   MASTER 

of  us  want  to,"  said  the  ever  hopeful  Dark- 
light,  by  way  of  continuing  the  talk  which 
had  been  interrupted  by  our  entrance.  "We'd 
like  to  break  into  literature  - 

4  With  a  Darklight  and  a  Jimmy  I  should 
think  we  might  succeed/'  Pipps  interrupted. 

*  They  do  treat  one  as  if  he  were  a  burglar  - 
those  satraps  that  edit  the  magazines,"  Jimmy 
went  on.  'You'd  think  they  were  appointed 
by  heaven  to  guard  the  house  of  letters. 
When  I  try  to  cross  its  threshold  their  eyes 
are  like  revolvers  aimed  at  my  head." 

44 It  is  quite  just;  in  literature  every  one  is 
supposed  to  be  a  fool  until  he  has  proved  him 
self  innocent,"  said  Pipps  with  a  smiling  face. 
'You  are  still  under  suspicion." 

"I  suggest,"  said  Darklight,  "  that  we  put 
each  other  on  trial  and  learn  who  is  guilty  and 
who  is  not.  I  propose  a  club  —  a  joyous  kind  of 
club  -  for  that  purpose.  We  ought  to  study 
this  old  town  of  ours.  It's  a  wonderful  muse 
um  of  character  and  colour  and  deviltry  and 
absurd  splendour.  Let's  have  a  room  like  this 
and  a  dinner  every  Saturday.  Two  of  us 
shall  wrrite  tales  or  poems  and  read  them  at 
the  dinner.  The  rest  shall  find  as  much  fault 
as  possible,  and  we  must  all  promise  to  take 
it  in  good  part." 


THE   MASTER  33 

"And  our  praise  would  grow  like  weeds 
and  our  heads  like  cabbages,"  said  the  cynical 
Mr.  Pipps. 

"No;  we'll  prohibit  praise,"  Jimmy  an 
swered.  "It's  criticism  we  want.  We  must 
all  agree  to  speak  our  minds  and  give  and 
take,  and  promise  to  be  happy.  Let  the 
only  praise  be  silence." 

"But  no  poems!"  said  Pipps.  "I'd  rather 
you'd  drawr  a  revolver  on  me  than  a  poem. 
Anyhow,  let's  insist  that  poems  be  carried 
openly  —  in  the  belt,  as  it  were  —  so  that 
those  who  read  may  run." 

Darklight,  in  no  way  discouraged,  went  on: 
"We  could  bring  curious  people  to  the  feast 
and  get  them  to  talk  to  us  —  tramps,  thieves, 
fakirs,  Bowery  boys,  and  we  could  even 
descend  to  authors,  statesmen,  and  million 
aires.  We  could  try  to  draw  them  out  and 
discover  new  motives  and  points  of  view." 

"The  school  for  novelists,"  said  Colonel 
Christmas  of  a  light  spirit  and  a  heavy  body, 
called  by  courtesy  "Colonel  Christmas."  He 
was  the  religious  editor  of  a  great  journal. 

The  club  was  planned  and  in  half  an  hour 
it  was  duly  organized. 

"I  know  a  singular  character  here  in  Kerri 
gan  Place,"  I  suggested.  "We  might  begin 


34  THE   MASTER 

upon  him  and  see  if  we  can  digest  the  fellow. 
He's  the  most  wonderful  man  I  ever  saw." 

44  Who  is  he?"  Pipps  inquired. 

"A  shoemaker." 

"A  shoemaker!" 

"It's  Ben  Lovel  and  I  know  him,"  said 
Darklight.  "He's  a  musician  and  a  poet, 
and  a  philosopher  and  a  gentleman.  He's 
a  poor  devil  that  works  for  a  living  - 

"Works!"  said  Pipps,  "a  man  of  his 
attainments  ought  to  know  better  than  that." 

**He  knows  more  than  all  of  us  put  to 
gether,"  said  Darklight,  as  he  cast  a  frown  up 
and  down  the  table.  "We're  babies;  I  tell 
you,  we're  not  in  his  class.  He's  a  man." 

"Steer  him  up  to  us,"  said  Pipps;  "1'vr 
seen  so  many  poets  I'd  be  glad  to  look  at  a 


man.' 


"I  am  to  bring  him  here  at  nine  o'clock," 
I  announced. 

"Let  me  go  after  him  now,"  Darklight 
proposed  and  I  waived  my  privilege  and  he 
left  us. 

Terrapin  was  being  served  and  champagne 
was  flowing  into  long-stemmed,  brilliant  gob 
lets,  when  we  all  came  to,  as  it  were. 

"Something  is  wrong,"  said  Pipps.  "This 
isn't  possible." 


THE   MASTER  35 

"  I  believe  we're  all  dreaming,"  said  Lengthy 
Higgins  with  a  laugh. 

"Send  for  the  proprietor,"  I  suggested. 

Our  host  entered  in  half  a  moment. 

"I  think  you  must  have  made  a  mistake," 
said  Pipps,  looking  up  at  him.  "We  didn't 
order  a  spread  like  this  and  it  can't  be  your 
regular  table  d'hote." 

"Are  you  not  gentlemen  of  the  press  —  are 
you  not  the  friends  of  Mr.  Horton  ?"  our  host 
inquired. 

"We  are  gentlemen  of  the  press,  but,  alas! 
we  are  not  friends  of  Mr.  Horton,"  said 
Pipps  with  a  look  of  amazement. 

Then  said  our  host:  "It's  very  strange. 
Mr.  Horton  ordered  the  dinner  and  paid  for 
it  and  his  friends  were  to  be  here  at  seven, 
and  they  have  not  come  at  all.  I  thought 
you  were  the  men." 

"Heavenly  manna!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pipps, 
looking  from  one  to  another. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  I  have  my  pay  and  you 
might  as  well  have  the  dinner,"  said  our  host. 

We  settled  in  our  chairs  again  with  a  sense 
of  peace  and  comfort  which  I  have  rarely 
known. 

Suddenly  Darklight  returned  with  Ben 
Lovel.  The  latter  shook  hands  with  each  of 


36  THE   MASTER 

us  and  took  the  chair  offered  him  without  a 
word.  I  observed  his  face  more  carefully 
than  before.  It  had  a  modest,  gentle  look  in 
it,  although  it  was  the  face  of  a  man  who 
knew  the  world.  Pipps  remarked  to  me,  some 
days  later,  that  Lovel  looked  like  one  who  had 
stepped  out  of  an  old  oil  painting,  and  therein 
he  repeated  my  own  thought.  Well,  we  were 
all  his  friends  before  the  niglil  was  an  hour 
older,  and  had  voted  him  into  the  club.  He 
had  said  little,  but,  somehow,  we  knew  that  he 
was  a  good  fellow  and  that  he  had  something 
for  us.  I  sat  beside  him  at  the  table  and 
asked  about  his  life. 

"I  make  shoes,"  he  answered  simply. 

"Do  you  ever  write?"  was  my  query. 

"Yes;  but  I  think  I  can  do  better  making 
shoes." 

I  asked  about  his  history,  but  he  gently 
turned  me  aside  as  if  it  were  a  thing  scarcely 
worthy  of  his  thought  or  mine. 

Our  host  had  entered  the  room  with  a  tall, 
heavy  gentleman  in  full  dress,  who  carried  a 
cape-coat  on  his  arm.  The  large  head  of  the 
stranger  was  adorned  with  iron-gray  hair, 
closely  trimmed  moustache  of  the  same  colour 
and  a  handsome,  merry  face.  He  laughed 
as  he  looked  down  at  us  and  said: 


THE   MASTER  37 

"  I  am  Israel  Horton,  gentlemen.  May  I  know 
whom  I  have  the  honour  of  entertaining  ?" 

Colonel  Christmas,  being  the  oldest  member 
of  our  party,  rose  and  introduced  himself  and 
each  of  us  in  turn.  We  knew  all  about  Mr. 
Horton,  although  few  of  us  had  ever  seen  him. 
He  had  come  to  New  York  from  the  Middle 
West  long  before  and  was  said  to  be  one  of 
the  richest  men  in  the  world.  Certain  news 
papers  had  called  him  "the  railroad  king." 

"Our  friend  here  made  a  little  mistake,"  he 
said,  turning  to  the  landlord.  "My  other 
guests  were  to  be  here  at  eleven  and  not  at 
seven  o'clock.  If  you're  happy  no  harm  is 
done.  There's  another  private  room  and 
plenty  to  eat  and  drink." 

"And  we're  in  great  luck,"  said  Colonel 
Christmas.  "We've  had  squabs  and  canvas- 
backs,  and  here  comes  Mr.  Horton,  the  rarest 
bird  of  all.  Sir,  we  propose  your  health." 

We  rose  and  drank  to  the  millionaire,  who 
bowed  and  laughed  and  tossed  his  cape-coat 
to  the  landlord. 

"How  did  you  learn  that  I  was  a  bird?" 
he  asked.  "I  didn't  suppose  it  was  generally 
known." 

"Sir,  no  man  could  make  your  speed  with 
out  wings,"  the  Colonel  suggested. 


38  THE   PIASTER 

'"Well,  so  long  as  you  don't  roast  me  I'm 
with  you,  as  the  turkey  said  to  the  farmer," 
he  remarked  and  sat  down  at  the  table.  "  You 
seem  to  know  about  me  —  tell  me  about  your 
selves." 

M  We're  a  bunch  of  good  fellows  who  write 
for  a  living,"  the  Colonel  went  on.  "If  you 
should  desire  a  modest  loan,  sir  —  say  fifty 
cents  or  so  —  you  could  get  it  from  any  one 
of  us,  without  security,  as  soon  as  he  could 
borrow  the  sum.  We  tap  the  springs  of 
romance  and  the  sacred  fount  of  song.  Epics, 
lyrics,  novels,  plays,  promptly  and  neatly 
executed.  Sonnets  made  while  you  wait,  and 
tragedies  done  to  order.  We  dine  together 
Saturday  nights." 

"Well,  invite  me  to  one  of  your  dinners  and 
I'll  call  it  square,"  said  Mr.  Horton. 

"Sir,  we  invite  you  for  next  Saturday  at 
seven  o'clock  in  this  room,"  said  Colonel 
Christmas.  "  There  will  be  stories  and  some 
talk  about  them." 

"And  I'll  have  one  to  tell,"  the  great  man 
promised. 

"I  know  your  brother,"  said  Ben  Lovel,  as 
he  looked  up  at  the  millionaire. 

"My  brother!"  Horton  exclaimed. 

"Your  brother  —  Gabriel  Horton,"  Lovel 


THE   MASTER  39 

added  as  quietly  as  if  he  were  speaking  of  the 
weather. 

The  millionaire  set  down  his  glass  and 
stared  at  the  young  man  as  if  he  knew  not 
what  to  make  of  him. 

"My  God,  sir!"  he  gasped,  "my  brother 
is  dead." 

"No  —  he  is  alive,"  said  Lovel,  slowly,  as 
he  went  on  with  his  eating. 

"Boy,  I'll  give  you  a  million  dollars  to 
bring  him  here,"  said  the  other  eagerly. 

Lovel  looked  at  his  watch  and  said:  "It 
is  not  necessary;  he  will  be  here  in  ten 
minutes  —  I  presume." 

The  room  was  warm  and  a  window  had  been 
lowered. 

"Listen,  I  think  that  he  is  coming  now," 
said  the  young  man  raising  his  hand. 

We  could  hear  slow  footsteps  coming  nearer 
on  the  stone  flags  beyond  the  window  and 
their  echoes  in  the  air.  And  there  was  a  kind 
of  sadness  in  the  sound. 

"It  is  his  step,"  Ben  Lovel  whispered. 

The  sounds  fell  into  silence.  Horton  rose 
with  a  whispered  exclamation. 

Then  we  saw  a  bearded  face  against  the 
window,  with  large,  gray  eyes  that  were  peer 
ing  in  at  us.  It  was  the  man  whom  I  had 


40  THE   MASTER 

seen  with  Lovel  after  I  left  the  lodgings  of 
Cap'n  Rone. 

The  millionaire  rose  and  hurried  through 
the  open  door.  We  followed  him  into  the  tap 
room,  where  the  brothers  met  and  embraced 
each  other.  In  a  moment  Horton  turned 
and  said  to  us:  "Good  night,  boys;  I  must 
go  with  my  brother.  Please  say  nothing 
of  this  and  make  my  excuses  to  the  other 
dinner  party." 

The  two  went  away  together. 

"This  is  sacred  history,"  said  Colonel 
Christmas.  "Not  a  word  about  it  —  remem 
ber  now." 

"\Miat's  the  story?"  I  asked  Lovel. 

"Ask  Horton,"  said  he;   "  it  isn't  my  story." 

And  he  would  say  nothing  more  of  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

T  OVEL  and  I  stood  talking  together  at 
JL-J  the  end  of  Kerrigan  Place.  It  was 
nearing  midnight  and  the  others  had  left  us 
and  started  for  Park  Row.  I  felt  an  odd 
pleasure  in  the  company  of  my  new  friend 
and  as  he  stood  near  me  in  the  darkness  I 
repeated  my  best  poem.  It  makes  me  sad 
to  think  what  a  fool  I  was,  and  what  a  peril 
to  the  unwary,  those  days.  He  listened 
patiently  and  took  my  hand  when  I  had 
finished  and  said  kindly: 

"I  like  it.  Come  up  stairs  and  smoke  a 
pipe  with  me." 

I  remember  well  the  joy  with  which  I 
followed  him  as  we  made  our  way  up  the 
hanging  iron  stair. 

My  companion  lighted  a  candle  and  sat 
down  upon  the  leathern  seat  of  his  work-bench 
while  I  took  a  chair. 

"You  came  from  England,"  he  remarked 
as  we  were  fining  our  pipes. 

"And  have  been  here  about  three  years," 
I  answered. 


42  THE   MASTER 

"And  you  cannot  find  your  uncle?" 

"Oh,  you  know  about  that!"  I  exclaimed 
with  surprise,  for  with  all  my  talking  I  had 
said  little  of  my  quest  since  I  began  it. 

"Something,"  he  said.  "It  was  a  hard 
task  and  you  were  wise  to  abandon  it.  Keep 
at  work.  I  can  see  only  one  thing  between 
you  and  success." 

"What  is  that?"  I  asked  eagerly. 
*  Yourself,"  he  answered;  "try  to  forget 
yourself.  Think  only  of  the  other  fellow  — 
That  reminds  me  —  we  must  be  off  if  we 
are  to  see  my  master,  Condon,  to-night,"  he 
said  rising,  "I  have  told  him  of  you  —  that 
you  were  one  to  be  trusted.  Moreover,  I  have 
promised  that  you  will  stand  with  us  and  do 
what  you  can  to  help." 

"I  will  do  as  you  wish,"  was  my  answer; 
such  was  the  confidence  that  he  had  made 
me  feel. 

We  left  the  shop  and  made  our  wray  to  one  of 
the  ferries  and  crossed  and  proceeded  through 
dim-lit  streets  and  alleys.  My  companion 
hurried  and  said  not  a  word  to  me,  but  whistled 
in  a  low  tone  as  he  walked.  Suddenly  we  saw 
a  man  standing  in  the  street  ahead  of  us. 

"Friends?"  he  whispered,  as  we  stopped 
beside  him. 


THE   MASTER  43 

"True  friends,"  Lovel  answered  under  his 
breath. 

"Of  the  hard  hand?"  the  stranger  asked 
as  he  shook  hands  with  my  companion. 

"And  the  strong  purpose,"  Lovel  whispered. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  the  other,  and  we 
followed  him  through  a  dark  alley  and  turned 
into  a  doorway  and  climbed  a  flight  of  stairs 
and  immediately  descended  two  others. 

There  Lovel  bade  me  wait  a  few  minutes, 
and  I  stood  in  the  darkness  and  heard  him  and 
his  leader  walking  away.  He  returned  soon 
and  came  and  took  my  hand  and  led  me 
through  a  long  narrow  passage,  at  the  end  of 
which  a  door  swung  open  as  we  approached. 
It  admitted  us  to  a  large,  gloomy  room  where 
some  two  hundred  men  were  sitting  on  rude 
benches,  under  a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke. 
Burning  gas-jets  flung  a  dim  light  upon  their 
heads.  A  platform  at  the  end  of  an  aisle, 
which  divided  the  audience,  held  a  table  where 
a  man  sat  with  lighted  candles  on  either  side 
of  him.  He  was  speaking  in  a  low  tone  as 
we  passed  down  the  aisle  to  seats  near  the 
table.  It  was  he  whose  portrait  I  had  seen  in 
the  clubroom  below  the  lodgings  of  Cap'n 
Rone.  I  could  see  his  strong  face  in  the 
candlelight  and  hear  his  words  plainly. 


44  THE   MASTER 

"I  have  heard  some  foolish  talk  here,"  he 
went  on.  "One  has  threatened  to  use  his 
pistol;  he  will  use  his  brains  and  thro\v  his 
pistol  away.  Permit  me  to  remind  him,  and 
others  like  him,  that  he  will  obey  orders. 
Not  a  man  will  lift  a  hand  without  the  consent 
of  the  Council.  A  member  who  does  not  obey 
is  an  enemy  and  a  traitor  and  will  be  treated 
as  such." 

The  chairman  was  interrupted  by  applause. 
He  was  a  big-boned,  brawny,  deep-chested 
man  of  about  forty,  with  gray  eyes  and  dark, 
close-cut  hair  which  had  begun  to  turn  a  little 
above  his  ears.  He  had  spoken  quietly  and 
with  a  faint  Irish  brogue  and  a  suggestion  of 
power  behind  his  utterance.  It  came  largely, 
I  think,  from  his  masterful  face  and  manner, 
for  many  might  have  used  better  words. 

"It  is  my  master,  Condon,"  Lovel  whispered. 
"He  is  called  the  Napoleon  of  Discontent/' 

I  had  been  reading  of  him  that  very  day  - 
a  quiet,  strong  man  who  had  come  east  from 
the  Colorado  mines  some  years  before.  There 
were  prominent  labour  leaders,  union  presi 
dents  and  heads  of  federations,  but  rumour 
had  it  that  all  took  their  orders  from  him. 
He  was  said  to  be  a  born  leader,  of  conserva 
tive  tendencies. 


THE   MASTER  45 

"And  what  meeting  is  this?"  I  asked 
Lovel. 

"It  is  the  Centre  Link  of  the  Toiler's 
Chain,"  he  answered. 

The  chairman  rapped  for  order  and  said : 

"We  will  now  hear  from  the  delegate  from 
St.  Petersburg." 

A  full-bearded  man  rose  and  told  in  broken 
English  how  the  Chain  had  been  carried  into 
Russia;  of  its  troubles  and  the  oppression  it 
hoped  to  overcome.  He  told  how  money 
which  had  come  from  the  Council  in  New 
York  had  been  expended  in  that  distant 
capital.  In  conclusion  he  begged  for  a 
private  interview  in  relation  to  the  "secret 
work." 

"I  will  see  you  to-morrow,"  said  the 
Napoleon,  and  called  another  delegate. 
Reports  were  heard  from  London,  Birming 
ham,  Paris,  Berlin,  Vienna,  Denver,  Col., 
Pittsburg,  Pa.,  and  Cleveland,  Ohio,  after 
which  the  convention  adjourned  to  resume 
its  work  on  the  morrow. 

Lovel  presented  me  to  John  Condon  and 
commended  me  as  a  trusted  friend.  The 
Napoleon  gave  me  his  hand  and  a  word  of 
hearty  greeting,  and  turned  to  others. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  place  I  heard  the 


46  THE   MASTER 

tap  of  a  cane  on  the  floor  and  a  familiar 
voice  saying: 

44  Ho  there,  friendy!" 

I  turned  and  greeted  Rog  Rone,  and  hurried 
away  with  Lovel. 

"Come  with  me  and  have  a  bite  of  supper," 
I  suggested  by  way  of  returning  his  kindness. 

"  Come  to  my  shop,"  he  answered ;  "  I  have 
food  and  we  will  save  our  money." 

We  went  straight  to  Kerrigan  Place,  and 
as  he  was  turning  the  key  in  his  door  I  could 
see  that  the  night  shadows  had  begun  to  lift. 
I  went  with  him  into  a  little  room  behind  the 
shop  where  a  bed  and  the  floor  were  covered 
with  the  skins  of  animals. 

"Do  not  speak  or  write  of  the  Chain,"  he 
said  to  me;  "Condon  says  little;  he  abhors 
publicity.  Therefore,  in  this  matter  lay  your 
hand  upon  your  mouth." 

I  sat  in  a  chair  and  he  began  to  prepare 
coffee  and  thoughtfully  whistled  as  he  worked. 
Suddenly  he  came  with  the  candle  in  his  hand 
and  stood  looking  into  my  face. 

"My  friend,"  he  began,  "I  have  a  secret 
and  I  ask  you  to  share  it  with  me." 

"Can  I  help  you  carry  it?"  I  asked. 

"Just  that;  the  burden  is  too  heavy  and  I 
need  your  help." 


THE   MASTER  47 

"Then  I  shall  be  glad  to  share  it." 

"I  know  all  about  you,"  he  said,  "and  I 
am  willing  to  put  my  life  in  your  hands." 

His  life!  I  wondered  what  he  could  mean 
by  that,  but  soon  understood  or  thought  so. 

"While  I  trust  you  perfectly,"  he  went  on, 
"it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  tell  you  this: 
mine  is  a  dangerous  secret." 

He  left  the  room  and  I  could  hear  him  turn 
ing  the  key  in  the  street  door. 

"  If  it  should  be  known  that  I  had  told  you," 
he  whispered  on  his  return,  "neither  your 
life  nor  mine  would  be  worth  a  penny.  It  is 
like  having  dynamite  in  your  pockets." 

"It  doesn't  frighten  me,"  I  answered. 

He  rose  and  poured  my  coffee  and  brought 
it  with  a  plate  of  cold  meat  and  bread. 

"It  is  about  my  master,  Condon,"  he 
whispered.  "He  loves  me;  I  am  the  only  one 
that  he  trusts  like  as  one  trusts  a  brother. 
When  I  say  that  a  man  is  worthy  and  true 
he  takes  my  word  for  it.  So  they  admitted 
you  to  the  chamber.  But  I  had  something 
hid  in  my  heart  —  a  purpose." 

I  had  but  just  met  him  and  yet  he  thought 
me  worthy  and  true  and  wras  about  to  put  his 
life  in  my  hands! 

"Trust  me  and  in  time  you  shall  know  all," 


48  THE   MASTER 

he  went  on.  'The  chain  is  a  mighty  thing  and 
there  are  few  of  its  members,  even,  who  know 
its  power.  You  have  heard  of  it,  my  brother, 
but  it  is  like  a  river  flowing  underground.  It 
comes  out  here  and  there,  and  you  look  and 
wonder  but  you  do  not  know  how  great  it  is. 
There  are  a  million  men  in  this  brotherhood 
and  the  number  is  growing.  He  holds  them 
in  his  hand.  My  master,  Condon,  is  their 
king." 

"I  should  think  it  likely,"  wras  my  answer. 

44  He  began  with  a  clean  heart  and  a  great 
purpose,"  Lovel  went  on;  " but  the  clamour 
of  the  multitude,  whose  hearts  are  afire 
and  who  would  have  gold  as  plenty  as  the 
stones  of  the  brooks,  have  almost  borne  him 
down." 

He  hesitated  and  I  looked  at  him  in  silence. 

"I  believe  him  to  be  the  most  dangerous 
of  men,"  he  added  in  a  whisper.  "His  arm 
reaches  around  the  world.  He  touches  many 
races.  He  might  bring  us  all  together  into 
one  great  family  of  brothers,  I  have  dared  to 
hope.  He  might  be  a  peacemaker;  he  chooses 
to  be  a  Napoleon." 

The  noble  face  of  the  young  man  who  sat 
beside  me  had  grown  very  serious. 

44 1  have  read  the  heart  of  my  master,  Con- 


THE   MASTER  49 

don,"  he  continued.  "He  knows  not  what  to 
do;  he  is  encompassed  by  evil  men.  He 
controls  them  with  bloody  discipline;  but  in 
spite  of  him  their  wrath  overflows  like  a  river. 
An  emperor,  the  president  of  a  republic, 
mayors  of  cities  and  many  others  have  been 
slain  by  radical  members  who  rebel  against  the 

light." 

His  slender  body  leaned  toward  me  and 
his  lips  whispered  close  to  my  ear: 

"Now,  they  have  made  a  plot  to  sink  all 
the  navies.  They  will  put  a  man  upon  every 
cruiser  and  battleship  in  the  seven  seas.  He 
will  watch  his  chance  and  fire  her  magazine. 
Oh,  they  do  not  fear  to  die  —  those  men ! 
They  think  it  a  grand  cause  —  a  death  full 
of  glory.  I  fear  —  I  know  that  my  master, 
Condon,  is  yielding.  He  hopes  to  rule  the 
world;  he  dreams  of  a  universal  empire. 
Reckless  adventurers,  half-mad  fanatics,  offer 
their  lives  to  him  every  day,  and  he  is  putting 
them  on  the  rolls.  They  are  his  standing 
army  and  are  ready  to  move  when  he  gives 
the  order.  But  he  has  paused  at  the  brink 
of  the  precipice.  He  is  deciding  between 
peace  and  war.  We  must  not  let  him  fall." 

I  was  appalled  by  what  he  had  told  me  and 
sat  dumb  for  half  a  moment.  What  was 


50  THE   MASTER 

this  slender  shoemaker  going  to  do  about  it, 
and  how  had  he  got  his  knowledge  ? 

;<  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  I  asked. 

**  I  am  going  to  turn  him  back,"  he  answered 
calmly. 

He  went  to  a  little  writing  table  and  picked 
up  a  pen  and  wrote  hastily,  as  I  waited.  He 
took  something  from  his  desk  and  folded  it 
with  the  sheets  of  paper,  now  covered  with 
script,  inclosed  all  in  a  large  envelope  and 
sealed  it  carefully. 

"There,"  he  whispered,  as  he  put  it  in  my 
hands.  "If  I  should  die  open  this  and  read 
what  I  have  written  and  you  will  know  what 
to  do." 

I  lifted  my  hand,  for  I  thought  that  I  had 
heard  some  one  stealthily  trying  the  outer 
door.  We  went  out  into  the  little  shop  and 
stood  listening.  We  heard  a  creak  on  the 
stairs  and  then  the  low  tap  of  a  cane  on  the 
pavement.  We  opened  the  door  in  time  to 
see  Rog  Rone  hurrying  out  of  Kerrigan  Place. 
Day  had  dawned  although  it  was  still  a  bit 
gloomy. 

"Beware  of  the  wolves!"  said  Lovel  with  a 
significant  look  at  me.  "  He  has  turned  south. 
I  will  let  you  out  of  the  rear  door  and  you  may 
go  the  other  way." 


THE   MASTER  51 

I  thought  no  more  of  Rone,  knowing  too 
little  of  him  then  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  his  appearance  in  Kerrigan  Place,  but  as  I 
left  Lovel  I  wondered  how  he  had  come  to 
know  me  so  well  and  why  he  had  chosen  me 
to  help  him,  and  the  envelope  filled  with 
mystery  and  suggesting  deadly  peril  lay  like 
a  lump  of  lead  in  my  pocket. 


CHAPTER  V 

TWO  weeks  had  passed  since  my  talk  with 
the  shoemaker.  Meanwhile  my  article 
about  Condon  and  the  great  book  of  which  I 
declared  him  to  be  the  author  had  made  no 
end  of  talk  and  brought  me  special  praise 
from  my  editor.  Of  course  I  had  read  the 
book  and  in  feeling  it  had  made  me  what  I 
had  not  been  before  —  one  of  the  innumerable 
family  of  men. 

It  was  a  plea  for  peace  on  earth  and  its 
tone  was  that  of  a  solemn  prayer.  It  gathered 
the  bones  of  all  who  had  died  in  battle  and 
flung  them  together  into  a  mountain  that 
towered  so  high  that  none  could  see  its  sum 
mit;  it  gathered  the  treasure  wasted  in  war 
and  heaped  it  into  another  far  greater  than 
the  first.  Then  it  made  me  to  see  a  mountain 
vaster  than  all  others  and  that  was  the  moun- 
l«i in  of  good  which  might  have  been  accom 
plished  with  this  wicked  waste  of  blood  and 
treasure  —  supposing  that  the  slain  had  gone 
forth  to  labour  with  the  treasure  for  their  pay. 
It  made  me  to  see  the  river  of  human  tears 

5* 


THE   MASTER  53 

that  rose  among  these  barren  peaks  and  un 
covered  the  truth  that  they  had  grown  out 
of  the  vanity  and  conceit  and  vengefulness  of 
a  mere  handful  of  men.  It  had  revealed  to 
me  the  monstrous  inconsistency  of  war  between 
Christian  nations. 

Two  or  three  times  I  had  been  to  the  shop 
of  the  shoemaker  and  found  it  locked.  Once 
only  I  had  seen  him  again  at  the  Lanthorne 
and,  while  his  face  had  worn  a  troubled  look, 
he  had  said  nothing  of  Condon  or  the  chain. 

Cap'n  Rone  had  made  a  cruise  and  returned 
to  the  city  and  might  have  been  found  any 
evening  with  his  bottle  of  gin  at  the  Silver  Mug. 
I  had  promised  to  bring  him  to  our  school  the 
next  Saturday.  It  was  to  be  a  formal  feast 
with  three  guests  of  honour:  Horton,  the  mill 
ionaire,  Shadpole,  the  novelist,  and  Berriman 
—  the  renowned  Berriman  —  editor  of  the 
Age.  This  editor  scanned  all  the  horizons 
to  discern  the  coming  of  great  men.  We  had 
tried  to  help  him  in  his  search  for  high  gifts 
of  insight  and  expression.  We  had  searched 
ourselves  and  discovered  tales  and  poems  and 
straightway  sent  them  to  his  desk.  He  had 
declined  them  all  with  thanks,  however,  and 
how  swiftly  mine  had  come  back!  —  like 
homing  pigeons  to  roost  unseen  in  the  full  and 


54  THE   MASTER 

gloomy  loft  of  my  bureau-drawer.  This  din 
ner  would  be  the  first  thing  he  had  ever 
accepted  from  us;  it  was  at  least  encouraging 
as  a  sign  of  his  confidence  in  the  club.  It 
gave  us  a  chance  to  convince  him  of  our 
talent  and  some  of  us  trembled  with  hopeful 
Anticipation.  Darklight  and  Higgins  were 
to  read  tales. 

In  discussing  the  arrangements  I  objected 
to  dress  suits,  for  it  seemed  unlikely  that 
Cap'n  Rog  could  be  induced  to  wear  one  even 
if  he  had  it.  But  the  others  rightly  main 
tained  that  his  bearing  would  be  all  the  more 
impressive  in  formal  dress. 

So  with  extreme  difficulty  I  had  coaxed  the 
Cap'n  into  an  old  suit  of  mine  which  did  very 
well  for  him,  and  with  a  beaver  hat,  which  he 
had  bought  at  an  auction  for  ninety  cents 
and  which  he  called  his  "topm'st,"  he  was 
on  his  way  to  Kerrigan  Place  in  my  company. 
He  felt  the  grandeur  of  my  broadcloth  and 
white  linen  and  had  refused  to  wear  his  over 
coat,  on  the  ground  that  he  would  look  better 
without  it.  He  cnn-inl  his  sny  more  grace 
fully  and  a  large  cigar  tilting  upward  from 
the  left  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  he  lifted  his 
cane  writh  a  lightsome  flourish,  now  and  then, 
as  we  proceeded.  Often  he  looked  down 


THE   MASTER  55 

at  the  cloth  and  once  greeted  himself  with  a 
merry  little  "ho,  ho"  —  a  something  between 
laughter  and  congratulation  —  as  if  he  had 
quite  forgotten  me. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  on  Jack's  cross-tree,  Cappy,"  he 
said  with  a  swift  wink  of  the  eye.  "Gran' 
slops  an'  a  topm'st  an'  a  load  in  my  hold,  an' 
wonderful  good  feelinks  in  the  cabin." 

He  paused  to  speak  "a  lady"  who  kept  an 
apple-stand,  with  that  whistled  greeting  of 
his,  and  to  try  to  catch  her  eye  and  went  on. 

"There's  some  as  I  used  t'  know  in  this  'ere 
port,  friendy,  an'  I'd  kind  o'  like  t'  cross  their 
bows,  I  would." 

For  half  a  moment  he  walked  on  in  silence 
with  a  grander  swing  than  ever,  if  possible. 

"Suppose  you  did?"  I  asked. 

He  answered  writh  a  little  wave  of  his  hand 
that  he  would  bid  them  go  to  a  place  which 
would  have  been  the  last,  I  am  sure,  they 
would  have  chosen  for  their  comfort. 

"All  but  one,"  he  amended  after  a  moment's 
thought.  "If  she  was  here  I'd  just  like  to 
cut  a  curly-cue  'round  her,  so  I  would,  an' 
show  her  that  I  can  be  a  fine  gent."  ,  - 

We  had  come  to  a  sloppy  corner  where 
brick  walls  were  being  laid  and  there  were 


56  THE   MASTER 

planks  and  mortar-beds  at  the  crossing.  The 
Cap'n,  who  was  walking  just  ahead  of  me, 
stopped  short. 

"Belay,  sonny,"  he  said  sharply  to  a  man 
just  ahead. 

I  saw  that  the  stranger,  in  stepping  on  a 
plank,  had  flung  little  sprays  of  mortar  up  the 
port  side  of  the  Cap'n,  who  now  faced  him 
angrily. 

"Ye  ain't  fit  t'  walk  with  no  decent-dressed 
gent  —  so  ye  ain't,"  the  Cap'n  shouted  with 
a  savage  wink  of  one  eye.  He  flourished 
his  cane  and  added:  "You've  sailed  abreast 
o'  me  fer  ten  minutes  an'  I  s'pect  ye  wanted  a 
chanct  t'  gum  me  —  dod  ram  yer  pictur' 
an'  ye  done  it." 

The  stranger  muttered  an  apology  and 
hurried  along.  The  Cap'n  continued  to  wave 
his  cane  and  denounce  the  manners  and  the 
"humly  face"  of  the  offender,  and  begged  him 
to  return  and  complete  the  "gumming"  which 
he  had  so  well  begun.  The  man  paused  for  a 
moment  only  and  hurried  out  of  hearing. 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  I  said  in  an  effort  to 
calm  the  Cap'n.  "We  must  hurry." 

But  our  troubles  had  just  begun,  for  my 
companion  had  no  sooner  set  his  foot  on  the 
plank  than  it  gave  a  hiss  and  up  came  a 


THE   MASTER  57 

sprinkle  of  sfime  that  reached  the  lapels  of 
his  coat.  He  looked  at  himself  and  then  at 
the  wet  plank. 

"  Oh,  it's  you  as  is  layink  f  er  the  Cap'n,  is  it  ?  " 
he  inquired.  "  Very  well,  very  well,  I  say  —  the 
Cap'n  is  right  here,"  and  his  feet  came  down 
sharply  on  the  plank  which  retaliated  with 
missiles  of  mud  and  mortar  that  even  reached 
his  "topm'st." 

"Hell's  bells!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  began 
baiting  the  piece  of  wood.  "You  can't 
throw  gum  scarcely  any  whatever  at  all. 
Try  again." 

So  the  fight  began  and  as  it  proceeded  the 
plank  made  the  most  of  its  opportunities. 
The  Cap'n  continued  jumping  as  he  addressed 
his  enemy  with  the  devil's  joy  in  his  counte 
nance.  He  would  stop,  now  and  then,  for 
breath  and  a  brief  look  at  himself  and  resume 
his  jumping  with  renewed  energy.  I  believe  he 
would  have  turned  upon  me  if  I  had  inter 
fered  and  so  I  let  him  alone. 

"If  I'm  to  be  gummed  I  want  to  be  gum 
med  perfict,"  he  advised  the  plank  between 
jumps.  "No  half-way  work  fer  the  Cap'n  — 
I  say.  Go  on.  Ye  can't  scare  nobody  ner 
hurt  their  feelinks  any.  Nobody  cares  what 
ye  do.  Try  ag'in.  You  don't  'mount  to 


58  THE   MASTER 

nothink    at    all    in    the    least.     Hell's    bells! 
You're  'bout   as   poor  a  guminer  as  I  ever 


seen." 


Meanwhile  the  Cap'n  was  getting  the  worst 
of  it.  He  was  now  well  covered  with  slime 
and  a  sight  to  behold,  with  nobody  to  behold 
him,  as  luck  would  have  it,  but  myself,  for  the 
street  was  then  quite  deserted.  His  "top- 
m'st"  hung  over  one  ear,  his  face  had  become 
red,  grimy  and  damp  with  perspiration.  In 
half  a  moment  he  had  seized  the  plank  in  his 
great,  powerful  hands  and  raised  it  to  his 
shoulder. 

"I'll  show  ye  that  ye  don't  'mount  t'  much, 
my  fairy,"  he  said  as  he  balanced  the  twelve 
feet  of  damp  timber  and  began  to  limp  along 
with  it.  "  You're  'bout  as  poor  a  specimint  of 
a  plank  as  I  ever  seen.  Come  an'  take  a  walk. 
If  ye  can't  throw  gum  no  better  'n  what  ye 
have,  it's  time  ye  got  out  o'  the  way  an'  give 
some  other  plank  a  chanct." 

I  dared  not  say  a  word,  but  walked  beside 
him  in  silence,  while  he  continued  to  address 
the  plank.  Of  course,  the  latter  only  answered 
with  its  weight  and  silence,  and  they  were 
not  without  some  effect.  The  Cap'n  grew 
weary  soon  and  leaned  it  against  the  side  of 
a  building  and  sat  down  by  it. 


THE   MASTER  59 

"Wait  here,"  I  suggested,  "while  I  get  a 
cab  and  send  you  back  to  the  inn." 

"Don't  mind  me,  my  pippin,"  he  said  with 
a  stern  wink.  'You  stan'  clear  an'  go  on 
'bout  yer  business.  I'm  hung  up  in  the  wind 
till  this  'ere  argyment  is  all  over.  I  won't 
knuckle  down  fer  no  plank  an'  ye  needn't 
'spect  it." 

I  knew  it  was  a  problem  which  he  must 
figure  out  for  himself  and  that  my  presence 
would  only  increase  his  humiliation  and  delay 
the  end.  I  stood  looking  at  the  poor  man 
while  he  turned  to  the  inanimate  piece  of 
timber  and  went  on  with  his  argument. 

"The  Cap'n  is  right  here,"  he  said,  crowd 
ing  against  the  plank,  "  an'  he's  goink  t'  stay 
till  this  'ere  row  is  over  an'  it's  all  settled  an' 
p'inted  out  whether  you're  better  than  I  be." 

The  silence  of  the  plank  was  at  once  con 
vincing  and  impressive,  and  I  hurried  on, 
having  no  further  time  to  lose,  for  the  hour 
of  the  dinner  had  already  passed. 

Our  room  at  the  Lanthorne  was  full  of 
light  and  good  company.  The  dinner-party 
had  sat  down  at  the  table  and  a  fire  crackled 
on  the  open  hearth. 

"Where  is  our  friend,  the  Cap'n?"  Colonel 
Christmas  inquired. 


60  THE   MASTER 

I  took  my  place  among  them  and  told  of  the 
Cap'n's  unhappy  and  hopeless  quarrel. 

'The  plank  will  soon  floor  him,"  said 
Pipps. 

"There's  a  study  for  a  novelist,"  said 
Colonel  Christmas.  "We  need  him  in  our 
zoological  garden.  He  must  be  a  rare  and 
wonderful  beast." 

"And  very  human,  too,"  said  the  great 
editor.  "It's  only  a  step  from  man  to  beast, 
;is  the  novelist  should  remember." 

"And  perhaps  only  a  step  from  man  to 
angel,"  said  Ben  Lovel.  "  Most  of  us  are 
about  half-way  up  the  ladder." 

"And  we  can  fall  faster  than  we  can  climb  - 
that's  another  point  for  the  novelist,"   said 
Mr.  Berriman.    "  We  can  slip  from  any  round 
;md  make  the  wrhole  descent  in  a  second." 

I  sat  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Horton  and  ,-^ked, 
presently,  for  his  brother,  while  the  others 
went  mi  with  their  talk. 

"Gone,"  said  he;  "gone  as  strangely  as  he 
came.  Left  the  day  before  yesterday,  just 
as  he  left  us  twenty  years  ago.  Went  to  his 
room  at  night  and  since  then  nothing  has  }>een 
«TII  of  him.  Singular  sort  of  man  and 
always  was.  Told  me  that  he'd  been  out  of 
the  world,  but  wouldn't  tell  me  where.  In 


THE   MASTER  61 

my  opinion  he's  a  little  out  of  his  mind. 
Didn't  have  much  to  say;  glad  to  see  me,  and 
all  that.  Glad  to  see  my  family,  but  rather 
restless  and  discontented.  Acted  like  a  man 
in  a  dream.  Did  our  best,  but  couldn't  make 
him  feel  at  home,  and  away  he  went.  I 
found  Mr.  Lovel  yesterday  and  we  had  a  talk. 
You  remember  that  he  knew  my  brother  and 
told  us  that  he  was  coming  the  other  night. 
That's  rather  strange  isn't  it?" 

"Rather,"  I  agreed. 

While  \ve  talked  our  friends  were  telling 
stories  suggested  by  the  case  of  Rone. 

"Lovel  interests  me,"  said  the  millionaire 
confidentially;  "there's  more  to  him  than 
any  of  you  suspect.  He's  a  pleasant  sort  of 
mystery.  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  the 
boy.  I  tried  to  pump  him  but  he  gently 
turned  me  around  and  I  quit." 

"He's  a  wonderful  man,"  I  said.  "We 
love  him  but  we  do  not  pretend  to  understand 
him." 

"I  want  to  know  him  better  and  have  asked 
him  to  come  up  to  my  house.  I  want  to  sit 
down  with  him  for  an  evening  and  see  if  I  can 
make  him  out." 

So  went  my  talk  with  the  great  man  and 
nothing  more  was  said  of  any  bearing  on 


62  THE   MASTER 

events  to  come.  He  seemed  to  like  me,  and 
by  and  by,  Colonel  Christmas  rapped  for  order 
and  introduced  my  companion. 

"I  can  remember  when  I  was  younger  and 
poorer  than  any  of  you,"  the  millionaire  began 
amid  applause  and  exclamations  regarding 
the  length  of  his  memory.  "I  landed  in  this 
city  years  ago  with  eighty  cents  and  a  great 
hope.  Every  day  I  looked  for  a  job  and  slept 
on  a  park  bench  at  night.  There  were  lots 
of  men  out  of  work,  those  days.  It  was  rather 
cold  and  three  of  us  would  snug  up  together 
on  the  same  bench  and  lie  against  each  other 
and  cover  ourselves  with  newspapers  the  best 
we  could.  When  the  sun  rose  we  would  go  to 
the  fountain  and  bathe  our  hands  and  faces.  I 
had  a  piece  of  a  looking-glass,  about  two  inches 
square,  and  another  fellow  had  a  small  comb 
and  we  would  pass  them  around  and  slick  up 
and  brush  each  other  with  a  newspaper  frayed 
like  a  whisk-broom.  Then  three  cents  fora 
cup  of  coffee  and  a  piece  of  bread  and  away  NS  r 
went  up  Broadway  to  seek  our  fortunes. 

'You  see,  we  were  friendless,  but  respect 
able  and  fairly  well  dressed.  I  took  the  first 
thing  that  was  offered  and  became  "squeezer" 
in  a  great  bar-room  at  fifty  cents  a  day  and 
my  board.  Had  to  squeeze  lemons  and  strain 


THE   MASTER  63 

and  bottle  the  juice.  By  and  by  I  got  a  place 
in  a  bank  and  learned  the  business,  and  went 
West,  and  things  came  my  way.  Good  luck 
has  made  me  a  millionaire  and  bad  luck  has 
made  me  a  human  being." 

There  was  half  a  moment  of  silence.  Then 
said  Colonel  Christmas: 

"  There  has  been  a  change  in  the  gang 
lately  —  a  change  of  character  and  purpose. 
The  first  fruit  of  that  change  I  will  now  present 
to  you  in  a  tale  by  Mr.  Darknight." 

The  young  man  rose  and  held  his  manu 
script  in  trembling  hands  and  read  his  sketch, 
an  indispensable  part  of  our  record  with 
threads  reaching  into  my  mystery  as  I 
came  to  know  by  and  by.  Here  it  is 
just  as  I  copied  it  from  the  minutes  of  the 
school : 

THE  STORY   OF  A    PASSION 

Bibbs's  was  a  gloomy  little  heaven  up 
one  flight,  and  Bibbs  a  bald  and  cranky 
little  god  of  violins,  with  whiskers  half 
as  long  as  himself  and  white  as  snow. 
His  windows  overlooked  the  Bowery,  and 
their  dusty  panes  hastened  the  twilight 
and  delayed  the  dawn,  robbing  the  day 
of  an  hour  at  each  end.  The  elevated 
trains  went  rushing  past  them,  but  some 
how  there  was  silence  in  the  little  shop; 


64  THE   MASTER 

or  was  it  but  the  sign  of  silence  that  one 
saw  on  every  side? --the  hushed  string, 
the  whisper-haunted  galleries  of  pine  and 
maple,  the  uncommunicative  Bibbs. 

Once  it  had  been  a  busy  place,  but  the 
centre  of  wealth  and  fashion  had  rctn -::ted 
from  it  year  by  year  and  now  it  was  a 
mere  nursery  of  violins.  And  some  that 
lay  upon  its  counter  forty  years  ago  were 
there  to-day,  and  time  had  poured  its 
floods  of  light  upon  them  and  dipped 
them  in  the  silence  and  the  gloom  of 
night,  and  filtered  through  their  fibres 
strains  of  song  and  sound  until  they  eame 
to  years  of  understanding  like  to  those  of 
men,  and  had  a  voice  for  human  thought. 
Men  came  to  buy  them,  often,  but, 
late  years,  had  found  it  hard  to  deal  with 
Bibbs.  Raw-toned,  young  violins  he 
sometimes  sold,  and  cheaply,  but  not  t In- 
old  ones  that  had  been  his  hope  and 
company  for  years-  not  for  all  the 
wealth  in  Gotham.  His  love  of  tin -m 
was  constant  and  his  price  beyond  all 
reach  or  reason.  The  salt*  of  the  Maggim 
had  been  a  sorry  bargain,  though  it 
brought  him  twice  its  value.  He  had  not 
expected  that  the  man  would  buy  it  at  a 
price  so  high.  But  the  money  was  paid 
and  the  Maggini  l>ecame  the  darling  of 
another  owner,  who  made  off  with  it, 
while  Bib! »s  stood  speechless  and  con- 


THE   MASTER  65 

fused,  and  then,  as  the  good  wife  was 
fond  of  telling,  "he  went  a  lead  colour." 

Now  buyers  came  more  rarely,  and  his 
wife  was  dead,  and  Bibbs  lived  quite 
alone. 

It  was  early  twilight  in  the  little  shop. 
Bibbs  lighted  a  candle,  set  aside  his  pots 
of  glue  and  varnish,  and  stood  a  moment 
thrumming  the  solemn  old  Amati  he  had 
just  mended.  Then  he  played  a  strain 
of  music  on  its  silver  string.  It  was  the 
"Song  of  Faith"  from  "Elijah."  A 
deep  amen  went  booming  under  the  red 
dome  of  the  bass  viol  that  lay  in  a  corner, 
and  a  low  wail  of  sympathy  swept 
through  the  cases  on  the  counter  and  along 
the  walls  —  the  voice  of  those  condemned 
to  silence  in  this  little  shop. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Bibbs  tenderly;  "I 
say  rest  in  Time,  for  Time  is  the  Lord, 
and  there's  time  enough  to  make  all 
things  perfect,  even  men.  You  are  like 
a  soul.  When  you  were  only  seventy 
years  old,  I  suppose  the  devil  had  his 
home  in  you,  as  he  has  in  me.  Goodness 
is  but  harmony,  and  you  might  be  better, 
you  red-bellied  son  of  a  whittler!" 

As  had  been  his  custom  by  day  for 
years,  Bibbs  carefully  inspected  the  join 
ings  of  the  Stradivarius.  Then  he  held 
his  ear  against  it,  and  the  strings  broke 
into  song  at  the  touch  of  his  beard. 


66  THE   MASTER 

"That  voice  of  yours!"  he  said.  "I 
wonder  what  it  will  be  a  thousand  years 
from  now.  Your  old  body  will  turn  to 
splinters  and  to  dust  some  time.  Wood 
can't  last  forever  any  more  than  flesh 
and  blood.  When  your  voice  is  near 
perfection  you  will  not  be  strong  enough 
to  stand  the  strain  of  the  strings,  and  then 
-  well,  you're  a  good  deal  like  a  man 
anyhow. 

To  Bibbs  heaven  was  the  destination 
of  all  good  violins  and  hell  was,  in  his 
opinion,  the  resort  of  fiddlers,  and  their 
playing  the  doom  of  the  damned. 

Bibbs  put  the  Strad  in  its  case  and 
turned  the  key.  He  stood  a  moment 
silently  filling  his  pipe-  A  melancholy 
'cello  lying  on  the  floor,  let  go  a  string, 
humming  like  a  lovesick  maiden. 

Bibbs  was  about  to  make  all  fast  and 
retire  to  his  little  room,  behind  the  shop, 
when  suddenly  the  door  opened,  clanging 
the  bell  that  hung  above  it.  An  old  man, 
with  shaven,  wrinkled  face  and  long 
\vliite  hair,  stood  before  liiin. 

"Any  old  violins?"  said  he,  advancing 
into  the  shop. 

"None  to  sell,"  said  Bibbs  curtly. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  buy,"  said  the  old 
man,  "but  I  am  a  connoisseur  and  I 
should  like  to  see  them." 

Now  there  were  men  to  whom  Bibbs 


THE   MASTER  67 

gave  some  toleration  and  even  a  degree 
of  confidence  —  men  who  had  grown 
old  with  violins  and  loved  them  as  he  did. 

"Sit  down,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  chair. 
"I've  an  Amati,  a  Guarnerius  and  a 
Strad  here.  They're  not  mine;  I  only 
take  care  of  them.  Play?" 

"Once;  but  you  see  nay  fingers  have 
grown  stiff  -  -  these  wrinkles  are  like 
strings  that  bind  them." 

Bibbs  took  the  Strad  from  its  case  and 
thrummed  it,  and  as  he  did  so  the  stranger 
rose  and  staggered  toward  him.  "Let 
me  take  it,"  said  he,  and  his  lips  quivered 
as  he  spoke. 

"Stand  back,  you  fool,"  said  Bibbs; 
"you  cannot  buy  this  instrument.  It  is 
not  for  sale,  I  tell  you." 

"I  shall  not  try  to  buy  it,"  said  the 
stranger.  "You  can  trust  it  in  my 
hands  a  moment.  Let  me  see  it;  I 
think  I  know  the  tone." 

Bibbs  hesitated,  surveying  his  caller 
with  suspicious  eyes.  Then  he  closed 
the  door  and  bolted  it. 

"Be  careful,"  he  said;  "don't  drop  it." 
And  with  anxious  looks  he  put  it  in  the 
stranger's  hands. 

As  the  old  man  took  the  instrument  he 
uttered  but  a  single  word,  and  that  was, 
"Sweetheart."  Then  he  kissed  its  back 
and  sank  upon  his  chair,  sobbing  softly. 


THE   MASTER 

He  held  the  Strad  u< T<»S  his  knee,  and 
every  tear  that  fell  upon  its  slender  roof 
sounded  like  a  fairy  drum-heat;  and 
when  his  sobbing  ceased  a  cry  rang  faintlv 
in  its  darkened  hall;  and  the  great  bass 
viol  and  all  the  daughters  of  nm>ic  lying 
low  in  the  little  shop  moaned  in  >\  mpathv 
as  if  they  knew  and  felt  and  understood. 

" Pardon  me,"  said  the  >  tranter.  "I 
seem  to  hear  the  voice  of  one  long  dead 
and  dear  to  me.  Thirty  years  ago  it  \\  Bfl 
mine.  I  fell  ill  and  pledged  it  for  a  loan. 
That  was  in  London.  I  was  a  long  time 
between  life  and  death,  and  when  I  came 
to  get  the  Slrad  they  had  sold  it  for  tin- 
debt.  Listen:  I  will  show  you  what  a 
voice  it  has." 

He  tuned  the  strings  and  played,  and 
as  he  played  his  fettered  fingers  were 
made  free.  His  quick  bow,  like  a  tri 
dent,  shook  the  sea  'twixt  heaven  and 
earth --the  sea  of  silence  —  and  waves 
of  music  started  for  its  further  strand. 
Far  into  the  night  these  old  men  >at 
together,  and  the  player  never  rested. 

Now  it  so  befell  there  was  a  tenant  in 
the  Strad  who  had  never  heard  its 
thunders.  Suddenly  a  black  spider 
rushed  out  of  the  dark  cavern  of  the 
violin,  and  scurrying  down  the  finger 
board,  was  crushed  beneath  the  strings. 
The  player  stopped. 


THE   MASTER  69 

''It's  a  bad  sign,"  said  Bibbs.  "Sorry 
you  came  here.  You  cannot  buy  the 
Strad  and  now  there's  no  peace  for  you." 

"Unless  you  let  me  live  here  and  help 
you  tend  the  shop,"  the  stranger  said. 
"I  have  money  and  we  both  love  music, 
and  you  are  alone." 

"Yes,"  said  Bibbs,  "but  if  he  comes  - 
the  owner  —  and  takes  it  from  us?" 

"But  he  may  not  come  for  years," 
the  stranger  said;  "and  let's  not  borrow 
trouble." 

And  so  Bibbs  made  him  welcome,  and 
the  old  men  lived  together  happily  but 
ever  fearful.  Day  by  day  they  played 
upon  the  Strad  and  when  the  door-bell 
rang  there  was  a  moment's  panic  in  the 
shop,  and  men  who  came  were  roundly 
cursed  by  Bibbs  and  came  no  more. 

It  was  morning  at  Bibbs's.  Its  old 
master  came  slowly  out  of  his  silent  room, 
the  Strad  under  his  arm.  He  laid  the 
violin  upon  its  shelf  and  lifted  the  window- 
shades.  The  sun  lit  up  his  pale  and 
haggard  face.  Suddenly  the  bell  above 
the  door  clanged  furiously  and  a  man 
stepped  in. 

"Hello,  Bibbs!  Give  me  the  Stradi- 
varius,"  said  he. 

Bibbs  lifted  the  violin  with  trembling 
hands. 

"See  that  dark  little  cavern?  "said  the 


70  THE   MASTER 

old  man,  peering  into  a  sound  hole.  "I 
tell  you  it  is  a  oit  of  the  undiscovered 
country.  Songs  of  some  other  world 
come  out  of  it.  To-day  there's  a  new 
voice  in  the  choir." 

He  thrummed  a  moment. 

"Bibbs,  what  do  you  mean?"  said  the 
owner. 

"He  is  dead --the  man  that  loved 
the  Strad  is  dead,"  said  Bibbs.  'Take 
it,  sir,  and  be  gone  --  be  gone,  I  tell  you." 

And  its  owner  took  it,  and  as  he  went 
away  he  laughed  and  muttered,  saying, 
"Bibbs  is  crazy." 

The  little  tale  received  its  compliment  of 
silence. 

I  observed  that  Lovel  had  been  deeply 
interested. 

"It    is    a    true    tale,"    Horton    remarked 
presently;     "I  know  the  shopkeeper  and    I 
am  the  owner  who  called  for  the  Strad.     I 
have  owned  it  for  twenty  yen?-." 
Could  I  see  it?"  Lovel  asked. 

1 '  Yes ;  come  to  my  house  to-morrow  eve 
ning  at  8.30  and  you  shall  see  it,"  said  the 
millionaire. 

"It  will  be  a  great  favour,"  Lovel  answered. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  broken  by 
Shadpole  who  said:  "Romance  seems  to 


THE   MASTER  71 

thrive  in  this  atmosphere.  I  wonder  if  this 
is  the  literary  club  referred  to  in  *  Brothers.' 
Have  any  of  you  read  the  book  ?" 

"I  have,"  said  Berriman.  "It's  a  wonder 
ful  book.  In  England  they  say  every  one  is 
talking  about  it.  I  saw  by  a  cable  message 
this  morning  that  it  was  being  translated  into 
many  tongues." 

"They  say  that  Condon  wrote  it  —  John 
Condon  —  the  so-called  Napoleon  of  Dis 
content,"  said  Shadpole. 

"I  think  that  is  true,"  said  Berriman;  "I 
understand,  at  least,  that  the  royalties  are  to 
be  paid  to  him  —  and  he  doesn't  deny  the 
authorship." 

"I  know  he's  very  able,"  said  the  novelist, 
"but  who  thought  of  such  a  heart  in  him? 
It's  inspiring." 

"And  what  a  breadth  of  view!"  said 
Berriman. 

The  Colonel  rose  and  the  dinner  had  come 
to  its  end.  Lovel  and  I  left  the  Lanthorne 
while  the  others  were  standing  in  the  tap-room. 

"Let's  walk  awhile,"  said  he,  and  we  left 
Kerrigan  Place  and  strolled  aimlessly  up  town. 
We  soon  passed  the  plank  which  wras  leaning 
where  I  had  seen  it  last  but  the  Cap'n  had 
gone.  We  walked  a  bit  farther  and  while 


72  THE   MASTER 

I  had  much  to  say  and  great  hope  of  getting 
more  light  on  the  mystery  of  Horton's  brother, 
I  urged  him  to  go  home,  noting  his  wearied 
manner;  and  soon  we  parted  for  the  night. 

Next  morning  I  was  awakened  by  a  rap  at 
my  door.  When  I  opened  it,  Lovel  stood  in 
the  hallway. 

"Come  in,"  I  said. 

He  picked  up  my  shoes,  which  lay  outside 
the  door,  and  brought  them  with  him.  He 
turned  them  in  his  hands  and  pointed  to  a 
little  paster  not  an  inch  square  in  the  hollow 
of  one  sole.  It  was  a  miniature  target,  its 
bull's  eye  and  rings  printed  in  red  on  white 
paper. 

'k \Yhat  is  it?"  I  asked. 

*The  man  Rone  is  a  spy  and  a  marker," 
he  whispered  as  he  turned  to  inc.  "It  is  the 
war  sign  of  the  Toilers." 

"Their  war  sign!"  I  exclaimed. 

'Yes;  a  device  by  which  the  supposed 
enemies  of  the  order  may  be  known  at  a  glance. 
Some  wear  it  for  days  not  knowing  (hat  they 
are  marked." 

I  wondered  how  that  could  be  but  more 
pressing  queries  were  in  my  mind. 

"Does  it  mean  that  one  is  marked  for 
removal  ?"  I  a>k<  d. 


THE   MASTER  73 

"In  most  cases,  no,"  he  answered.  "It 
is  a  warning  and  they  will  watch  him  as  the 
hawk  watches  its  prey.  He  might  fall  from 
a  high  bridge  or  drop  from  the  end  of  a  pier, 
or  be  smothered  in  his  room  by  gas.  Very 
often  it  is  made  to  appear  that  he  has  died  by 
his  own  hand.  They  may  kill  him  in  a 
quarrel  or  they  may  let  him  alone.  His  fate 
will  hang  on  the  trouble  and  the  chance  he 
gives  them.  Change  your  boarding-place 
but  do  not  touch  the  mark  until  we  meet 
again.  Now  see  if  you  have  the  sealed  letter 
that  I  gave  you." 

I  had  pushed  it  under  the  lining  of  my 
trunk  and  carefully  tacked  the  slit.  I  felt 
secure  in  that  matter  and  so  assured  him. 

"Look,"  he  insisted. 

I  unlocked  the  trunk  and  threw  up  its  lid. 
There  were  the  tacks  that  held  the  lining  and 
beneath  I  could  feel  the  envelope.  I  pointed 
with  my  finger  and  looked  up  at  him. 

"Draw  the  tacks  and  make  sure,  my 
master,"  he  whispered. 

I  did  so  and  out  came  the  envelope  with 
its  seal  broken  and  a  few  sheets  of  blank  paper 
inside.  Lovel  turned  chalky  white  and  sank 
into  a  chair. 

"I  met  the  knave  outside  and  saw  it  all  in 


74  THE   MASTER 

his  face,"  he  whispered  presently.  "His 
staying  with  the  plank  was  a  trick,  my  master 
-  a  trick  to  get  you  to  leave  him.  He  saw 
you  anchored  in  Kerrigan  I  Mace  and  came  back 
here  and  searched  your  room  at  his  leisure. 
It  is  probable  that  he  was  looking  through 
the  window  that  night  and  saw  you  put  the 
envelope  in  your  pocket/' 

44 We're  both  in  danger?"  I  suggested. 

"I  shall  appeal  to  Condon,"  he  whispered. 
"Be  wise  as  a  serpent,  and  be  careful  how 
you  go  out  alone  at  night." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  and  left  me,  with  a 
worried  look. 

I  examined  the  symbol  and  thought  how 
cleverly  Rone  had  placed  it,  for  few  men  ever 
see  the  bottoms  of  their  shoes.  Yet  one's 
M>les  show  their  full  length  to  all  who  walk 
behind  them. 

I  packed  my  things,  paid  my  bill  and 
started  in  quest  of  a  new  boarding-place. 
Rog  Rone  met  me  on  the  sidewalk. 

"What's  ahead,  Cappy?"  he  inquired  as 
he  wrung  my  hand. 

"Going  to  leave  the  Mug,"  I  answered. 

"I'll  miss  ye,  Cappy,"  said  he.  "Yer 
dear  father  couldn't  miss  ye  no  more  —  an' 
that's  the  God's  truth.  I'll  tind  ye,  no  matter 


THE   MASTER  75 

how  fur  ye  go  —  so  I  will.     You're  a  wonder 
ful  cute  child  an'  I've  took  a  fancy  to  ye." 

The  old  wretch  brushed  a  tear  from  his 
eye,  and  I  said  that  I  would  see  him  soon, 
which  I  knew  to  be  likely,  and  hurried  away. 


CHAPTER  VI 

It  is  idle  to  think  that  by  meant  of  irorrfj  any  real 
communication  can  ever  pats  from  one  man  to  another. 
The  lips  or  the  tongue  may  represent  the  «oul  even  as 
a  cipher  or  a  number  may  represent  a  piriur,-  /»/ 
Memlincq ;  but  jrovi  the  moment  that  we  have  some 
thing  to  say  to  each  other  we  are  cnrnj>rlled  to  hold  our 
peace;  and  if  at  such  times  we  do  not  listen  to  the 
urgent  commands  of  silence,  innudiMe  though  they  be, 
we  shall  hat*  suffered  an  eternal  loss  that  all  the  treas 
ures  of  human  wisdom  cannot  make  goaf,  for  \re  shall 
ha »r  lei  i<lip  the  opportunity  of  listening  to  another  soul. 

\\\>  i  \  i.i  i\<  K 

I  SAW  nothing  of  Rone  or  Level  for  ;i  week. 
I  had  called  once  at  the  office  of  Israel 
Horton  to  get  his  adviee  in  a  cert a in  matter 
and  while  there  had  shown  him  my  letters 
of  commendation.  They  were  from  friends 
of  my  father  in  Kn^land,  one  of  whom  was 
Ihe  rn»mier  himself. 

Within  a  day  or  two  i  called  a  second  time 
to  see  Ihe  millionaire  at  the  request  of  my 
editor  \\lio  wished  me  to  write  the  story  of 
Horton \s  life. 

"Can't  talk  with  yon  now.  hoy/'  s.-iid  the 
railroad  kin<j  as  he  came  out  of  his  private 
room.  "Come  to  dinner  with  me  to-morrow 

76 


THE   MASTER  77 

at  seven  and  I'll  show  you  my  note-books  and 
the  capitol  of  my  little  kingdom.  Condon 
will  be  there." 

So  I  went  to  his  home  —  a  great,  square 
house  of  white  marble,  planned  for  large 
hospitality  and  filled  with  costly  treasures. 
The  best  of  them  was  his  daughter  Ruth,  who 
was  my  companion  at  dinner. 

Mr.  Horton  was  a  man  of  wit  and  a  remark 
able  memory.  He  had  read  the  best  books 
and  could  give  you  lines  for  every  cue.  He 
was  a  kindly  man,  and  I  learned  to  love  him 
in  spite  of  traits  that  were  sharper  than  a 
serpent's  tooth.  Sometimes  he  had  a  way  of 
using  one  for  a  pedestal. 

"Holm,"  he  would  say,  suddenly,  as 
all  eyes  were  turned  upon  me,  "what  was  it 
that  Shakespeare  wrote  about  the  sea?" 

Then  a  crushing  silence  while  I  groped  in 
my  memory  and  humbly  acknowledged  my 
ignorance.  Suddenly  the  millionaire  would 
exclaim  : 

"O,  I  have  it!"  and  glibly  speak -the  lines 
for  which  he  had  thus  created  an  opportunity. 

Condon  sat  beside  Mr.  Horton. 

"I  haven't  had  time  to  tell  you  of  half  the 
profit  and  delight  your  book  has  given  me," 
said  the  latter  to  his  chief  guest  as  soon  as  a 


78  THE   MASTER 

certain  bishop  had  pronounced  the  blessing. 
"  Every  one  is  reading  and  re-reading  the 
book." 

"He's  very  kind --this  Mr.  Everyone," 
Condon  rejoined.  "He  sends  me  hundreds 
of  letters  a  day  about  it  and  I'm  rather  busy 
with  them.  I  intended  to  keep  out  of  sight 
in  the  matter." 

"It's  lucky  you  couldn't,"  said  the  other. 
"Think  what  it's  done  for  you  and  your  cause. 
We  know  what  to  expect  from  you  now,  and 
we  shall  hold  you  up  to  your  preaching.  If 
you  are  true  to  your  principles  you  will  have 
the  confidence  of  the  world  and  more  money 
than  you  ever  dreamed  of.  You  will  have 
an  empire  with  no  boundaries." 

"You  offer  great  promotion,"  said  the 
Napoleon  of  Discontent  with  a  smile. 

"And  remember  —  it's  worth  while/'  said 
the  millionaire. 

"But  I  could  be  happy  with  far  less." 

In  the  light  of  all  I  knew,  here  was  an  odd 
bit  of  comedy.  It  reversed  that  third  tempta 
tion  of  the  devil  when  he  offered  all  the  king 
doms  of  the  world  to  the  Son  of  God.  It 
seemed  as  if  all  the  kingdoms  were  now  being 
offered  as  the  prize  of  righteousness.  As  to 
the  book  itself,  I  had  no  doubt  that  Condon 


THE   MASTER  79 

had  written  it  years  before  and  had  since 
fallen  from  its  lofty  plane.  If  not,  how  could 
he  now  be  on  the  brink  of  declaring  a  bloody 
war  himself,  as  I  knew.  Soon  the  topic 
changed. 

"We  had  a  great  evening  with  your  friend 
Lovel,"  Horton  said  to  me. 

"Did  you  show  him  the  violin?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  and  he  showed  me  how  to  play  on 
a  Strad.  He  is  a  master." 

"That  is  new  to  me,"  I  said. 

"He  captured  us;  we  sat  and  listened  till 
midnight.  He  won  the  ladies;  they  thought 
him  very  handsome." 

"His  playing  is  wonderful,  but  his  face 
more  so,"  said  Ruth  Horton.  "What  a  pity 
such  a  man  is  a  shoemaker!" 

"I  offered  to  put  him  in  better  business, 
but  it  didn't  interest  him,"  said  her  father. 
"He's  perfectly  contented." 

"I  wish  he  wrere  anything  but  a  shoemaker," 
the  girl  added. 

We  had  risen  from  the  table  when  Mr. 
Horton  said  to  me: 

'Young  man,  I'm  sorry  the  madame  isn't 
here.  She  knows  the  whole  story.  I  have 
some  business  with  Mr.  Condon  up  in  my 
room.  You  go  into  the  library  and  talk  with 


80  THE    MASTER 

Ruth.     She  knows  a  lot  about  me  and  can 
show    you    the    note-books.     Give    my    1 
wishes  to  Lo\el;     I  ;tm  much  in  debt  to  him. 
It    was   he   who   presented   me  to  Condon   and 
induced  me  to  re;id  his  book." 

Mr.  Morion  \\ciil  above  >iairs  and  I  to  the 
library  \\ith  the  young  lady  and  her  grand 
father  and  the  bishop  and  his  wife.  The 
others  fell  to  talking  about  Condon's  book, 
while  the  young  lady  and  I  sat  down  together. 
Then  came  the  best  hour  of  my  life  I  can- 
not  just  tell  you  why  for  there  was  little  in 
our  talk  to  make  it  so.  She  was  a  t'ull-si'/ed, 
wholesome,  fun-loving  girl  and  I  did  not 
think  her  beautiful,  but  somehow  she  filled 
my  eye.  Secretly,  quietly,  I  took  possession 
of  her,  then  and  there,  as  by  some  indisputable 
right,  and  resolved  to  make  her  my  wife.  Of 
course,  I  knew  there  were  difficulties  to 
overcome,  but  they  gave  me  no  uneasiness. 
hhe  showed  me  the  note-books,  and  soon  I 
asked  her  about  her  uncle  Gabriel  whom  1  had 

seen  twice.  She  thought  that  he  had  lived  as 
a  hermit,  somewhere,  and  had  gone  back  !<• 
his  lonely  life.  She  told  of  his  shyness  and 
reticence  and  said  that  talk  wearied  him. 

"One  even  in ::  afl  Wt  sat  here  together," 
she  went  on,  "he  told  me  thai  he  cared  little 


THE   MASTER  81 

for  words.  He  said  they  were  used  mostly 
to  conceal  thought  and  not  to  express  it.  He 
startled  me  by  saying  that  he  went  beneath 
the  words  that  people  said  to  him  and  felt 
their  thoughts  and  I  think  it  made  him 
unhappy.  I  am  trying  it  myself." 

"Then  I  shall  be  very  careful,"  I  remarked. 

She  gave  me  a  knowing  smile  and  showed 
me  a  beautifully  modelled  hand,  as  she  felt 
her  dark  hair,  and  went  on: 

"I  think  we  all  have  more  insight  than  we 
know.  We  meet  people  and  we  ask,  'How 
do  you  do?'  and  all  that  and  scarcely  hear 
what  they  say  but,  somehow,  we  begin  to 
feel  for  their  thoughts  and  find  them,  whatever 
their  words  may  be." 

"It  is  true,"  I  said,  "and  this  also,  that  a 
man  can  never  deceive  any  one  but  himself 
for  more  than  a  brief  time." 

She  hummed  a  line  from  an  old  love  song 
as  she  turned  the  leaves  of  a  note-book. 

"That's  strange,"  I  said;  "my  mind  has 
been  singing  that  song  ever  since  we  left  the 
table." 

'You  see,  minds  have  the  power  to  com 
municate  with  each  other  in  spite  of  us,"  she 
said,  as  her  brown  eyes  looked  into  mine. 
"You  might  take  these  notes  with  you;  he 


S2  THE   MASTER 

dictated  them  to  me.  There's  only  one  or 
two  things  I  could  add  to  them.  He's  the 
best  father  in  the  world  and  I  recommend 
him  to  you  for  a  friend." 

When  I  rose  to  go  there  was  that  in  the 
clasp  of  our  hands  and  the  look  of  our  faces 
that  seemed  to  speak  for  us,  and  I  was  sure 
that  we  understood  each  other. 

"One  thing  more,"  she  added  with  a  smile, 
"please  remember  me  to  Mr.  Lovel." 

"I  shall  do  so,"  I  answered  with  as  good 
tjnire  as  would  go  with  my  disappointment, 
for,  suddenly,  I  had  seen  the  truth  in  her  eyes 
-  she  was  fond  of  the  little  shoemaker.  But 
I  would  not  let  myself  doubt  that  I  should 
win  her. 

I  went  straight  to  the  shop  in  Kerrigan 
Place  and  found  Lovel  at  work  there. 

"I  have  been  dining  at  Horton's,"  I  said. 

"Did   you   see   his   daughter.-" 

"Yes,  and  I  bring  her  best  wishes." 

"She's  led  me  out  of  my  way,"  he  said. 
"Lately  I've  done  little  but  think  of  her." 

"Lovel!"  I  exclaimed  with  surprise,  "what 
are  we  to  do?  I'm  in  love  with  her  myself." 

"She  will  not  care  for  me!"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  am  sure  that  she  does  care  for  you," 
I  said. 


THE   MASTER  83 

He  put  down  the  shoe  which  he  had  been 
mending  and  looked  up  at  me.  His  cheeks 
reddened;  for  a  second  his  eyes  were  full  of 
wonder  and  delight.  Then  he  turned  very 
thoughtful. 

"If  she  does  it  cannot  last,"  he  answered. 

"Why?" 

"I  am  a  toiler;    I  work  for  my  bread." 

"She  knows  that." 

"But  not  the  difficulties  that  lie  between 
us.  You  will  not  find  me  a  formidable 
rival." 

Again  he  bent  over  his  task. 

"Couldn't  you  find  better  work  than  this  ?" 
I  asked;  "something  easier  and  more 
profitable?" 

He  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"They  tell  me  that  you  are  a  great  violinist." 

"  There  are  many  greater,"  he  answered. 
"I  love  music,  but  the  people  are  more  in  need 
of  shoes." 

:<  Wouldn't  they  pay  more  for  the  music?" 

:'Yes;    but  I  have  no  need  of  their  money." 

"You  might  be  able  to  buy  many  more 
shoes  than  you  can  make." 

"True;  but  I  must  walk  with  my  brothers 
and  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  man." 

I  sat  for  a  moment  looking  into  his  face 


84  THE   MASTER 

and  wondering  what  he  meant.     He  seemed 
to  feel  my  thoughts  for  he  added   presently: 

"Some  time   \<>u   \\ill   know   me   better." 

Next  day  I  went  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Horton. 
He  took  me  into  his  private  room  and  rlosed 
the  door  and  \\  e  sat  down  together.  I  had 
made  a  plan  for  the  .story. 

"There's  sonic-thing  I  must  say  In -fore  I 
go  any  further,"  I  began. 

"What  is  it?" 

"A  fact  in  your  life  and  mine  that  has 
brought  me  to  a  point  of  honour." 

"Out  witli  it,  hoy." 

"I  will  not  deceive  you  for  a  momenL"  i 
said.  "You  have  the  dearest  daughter  in  the 
\\orld,  and  I  am  in  love  with  her/' 

lie  looked  at  me  almost  sternly  and  then 
his  face  softened  to  a  smile.  He  leaned  touanl 
me  and  put  his  hand  on  my  arm  and  said 
rather  tenderly: 

"It's  a  pity,  my  boy!    I'm  sorrv  for  \<>u." 

"Why?" 

'You Couldn't  marry  her.      It's  impossible." 

"Pardon  my  presumption,  hut  I've  done 
so  many  impossible  things  -  it's  a  habit 
\\ith  me." 

"I've    done    a    few    myself,    but    then 
limit,"  said  the  millionaire.     "I  like  you,  hoy. 


THE   MASTER  85 

but  can't  you  see  it's  out  of  the  question  ? 
The  girl  has  been  spoiled.  Why,  I  suppose 
it  costs  me  ten  thousand  a  year  to  dress  her. 
What  would  you  do  with  a  wife  like  that  ? 
You  have  to  work  for  a  living." 

66 True,"  I  said;  "but  I  hoped  that  you 
wouldn't  think  the  less  of  me  on  that  account." 

44  Well,  you  know  I've  been  poor  myself  and 
I've  no  false  pride  in  me.  But  think  of  it, 
my  boy,  she  has  always  carried  the  lamp  of 
Aladdin.  She  has  only  to  wish  and  to  have. 
Her  life  is  no  more  real  than  that  of  Jack  and 
the  beanstalk.  Now,  honestly,  do  you  think 
she  could  live  in  a  little  flat  or  a  small  house 
in  the  suburbs  with  one  servant  and  a  very 
limited  income  ?  Of  course,  I  could  stake  you, 
but  you're  a  man  of  pride  and  you  wouldn't 
care  to  be  a  pensioner." 

"No,  but  she  may  be  willing  to  try  real  life 
for  a  while,"  I  said.  "I  think  that  she  is 
weary  of  being  a  fairy  princess.  You  ought 
to  give  her  a  chance  to  be  a  woman.  Poverty 
isn't  the  worst  thing  in  the  world.  In  fact, 
I've  heard  you  recommend  it  highly." 

"I  know  all  that,  but  I'm  a  slave,  as  Lovel 
put  it.  Now  there's  her  mother.  She  has 
more  to  say  than  I  about  this  sort  of  thing. 
The  poor  woman  has  dreams  of  a  grand 


86  THE   MASTER 

alliance  with  noble  blood.  I  know  it's  all 
nonsense  and  I  hope  she'll  recover,  but  the 
odds  are  against  you,  boy." 

"If  I'm  not  mistaken,  by  good  rights  the 
•rirl  i>  mine,"  I  said;  "and  I'd  like  a  chance 
to  win  her  if  I  can.  One  of  these  days  I  hope 
to  be  rich." 

He  looked  at  me  thoughtfully  for  half  a 
moment. 

"I  like  you,"  he  said  with  a  smile;  "but 
tell  me,  what  are  your  prospects  ?" 

"For  a  year  I've  put  all  my  saving  in  land 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  and  before  long 
I  hope  to  sell  at  a  handsome  profit." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed. 

"It's  great  to  be  young,"  he  said  with  a 
tone  of  kindness  and  a  look  of  amusement. 
"I  want  to  be  fair  to  you.  I  shall  not  say 
that  you  cannot  see  the  girl;  but  there 
must  be  no  love  talk  and  not  a  word  about 
marriage  until  I  say,  go  ahead.  I  make  no 
promises." 

"And  I  ask  for  none  and  will  do  your  bid 
ding,"  was  my  answer. 

Then  a  short  talk  about  the  story,  and  I 
left  him  with  a  better  hope  in  me  than  I  had 
ever  known.  But  I  soon  lost  faith  in  the 
promise  of  that  day,  for  I  called  time  and  again 


THE   MASTER  87 

at  the  great  white  house,  but  saw  nothing 
more  of  the  young  lady.  Mrs.  Horton 
received  me  kindly  but  made  me  know, 
between  words,  that  she  was  aware  of  my 
purpose  and  could  give  me  no  hope. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  IS  odd  how,  once  in  a  long  while,  Lite 
makes  a  plot,  like  that  of  a  story,  and  calls 
its  characters  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  and 
they  assemble  and  are  promptly  driven  to 
their  parts.  When  I  look  back  on  the  years 
of  my  young  manhood  they  are  like  a  tale 
that  is  told.  The  Lanthorne  was  its  centre 
and  every  character  and  incident  and 
every  word  of  those  nights  under  the  old 
brought  us  nearer  the  climax. 

As  I  have  explained,  Colonel  Christmas 
had  the  post  of  <k  religious  editor"  on  one  of 
the  great  newspapers.  It  .should  l>e  said  that 
the  title  related  more  to  his  work  than  his 
.sentiments.  He  was  genial,  save  when  he 
had  drunk  too  freely.  Then,  having  been 
robbed  of  an  evening,  long  before,  while  in 
his  cups,  he  regarded  every  one  with  suspicion. 
As  he  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  in  our 
cozy  room  at  the  Lanthorne,  every  pound  of 
the  two  hundred  and  ninety-live  that  corn 
ed  his  person  seemed  to  feel  the  grcatne-, 
ol'  the  night.  II is  face  gloued  \\ith 

88 


THE   MASTER  89 

nature.  A  sense  of  responsibility  filled  his 
breast.  He  was  not  a  man  of  proved  literary 
skill  like  Pipps  or  Darklight.  Still  he  did 
not  conceal  the  fact  that  he  had  ambitions. 
Whenever  he  told  an  anecdote  of  possible 
literary  value  he  always  added  the  words: 
"Copyright  by  H.  F.  Christmas." 

We  were  beginning  the  tenth  and  greatest 
session  of  The  School  for  Novelists.  Ben 
Lovel  sat  beside  me;  I  had  seen  him  two 
or  three  times  at  the  little  shop. 

"They  have  their  necks  in  a  leash  —  those 
madmen,"  he  had  said  to  me  one  evening. 
"But  they  will  break  away  soon  and  we  must 
look  out." 

Meanwhile  he  had  achieved  unwelcome 
prominence  hi  two  ways  —  he  had  saved  a 
number  of  children  in  a  school  fire,  at  the 
peril  of  his  own  life,  and  been  elected  president 
of  the  Mechanics'  Union.  Lovel  had  declined 
the  place,  and  seemed  to  regard  its  offer  as  a 
misfortune. 

"I  was  born  to  be  a  servant  and  not  a 
master,"  he  had  said  to  me,  in  speaking  of 
this  event.  "I  love  obscurity.  It  is  a  part  of 
my  plan.  Try  to  stop  this  talk  about  me. 
Some  day  I  shall  make  you  to  know  why." 

I  looked  about  me  that  evening  and  thought 


90  THE   MASTER 

how  the  "gang"  had  changed.  In  the  be 
ginning  our  dinners  hud  hern  characterized  by 
over-drinking  and  high-flavoured  wit  and, 
indeed,  anything  for  a  laugh.  All  that  \vus 
pretty  much  a  thing  of  the  past  with  us. 
Now  we  were  studying  an  art  and  thinking 
decently  and  with  some  results. 

Pipps  hud  .satirized  his  fellows  in  this 
fashion:  "It  seems  to  me  that  \\e  should  have 
an  evening  of  readings  from  an  expurgated 
edition  of  Felicia  Heman>  !" 

I  asked  myself  how  it  had  come  about, 
and  what  would  be  the  next  stage  of  our 
development. 

Then,  right  on  the  heels  of  my  unspoken 
query,  came  Level's  suggestion:  44I  have 
this  to  say  to  you,  my  master:  Every  stream 
must  have  a  source.  Shall  we  try  to  make 
a  river  of  expression  without  a  lake  of  thought 
—  a  lake  somewhere  up  in  the  mountains  of 
truth?  First,  fill  your  lake,  I  should  say,  and 
think  not  of  your  style.  Thoughts  -  leagues 
and  fathoms  of  them,  drained  from  the  heights, 
are  needed  here.  Then  let  the  rivers  flow  as 
they  will." 

**It  is  true,"  said  Darklight  as  he  looked 
;n TOSS  the  table  at  us.  "We  waste  time  with 
trifles.  I've  found  a  lake  of  thought  for  you. 


THE   MASTER  91 

"Listen  --you  men  who  are  studying  life," 
he  went  on,  with  great  seriousness,  to  the 
whole  company,  "if  you  will  come  with  me, 
to-morrow,  I  will  show  you  the  greatest  event 
of  the  century." 

His  lips  began  to  tremble  a  bit,  as  they 
always  did  when  he  was  full  of  his  subject. 
He  leaned  forward  and  added,  impressively, 
as  he  rubbed  his  hands  together : 

"Absolutely  the  most  startling  and  signifi 
cant  thing  that  has  happened  in  a  century!" 

"Are  you  going  to  pay  your  debts?"  Pipps 
inquired  with  a  smile. 

"What  do  you  expect  —  miracles?"  said 
Darklight  as  he  joined  the  laugh.  "No,  but 
I'll  show  you  the  end  of  another  impossibility 
—  ingrate  —  and  I  offer  you  the  chance  to 
see  it." 

Darklight  was  editor  of  one  of  the  big 
Sunday  newspapers,  and  lived  in  an  atmos 
phere  of  amazement.  Three  of  us  said  that 
we  would  go,  and  he  looked  straight  across 
at  me  with  eyes  solemn  as  a  prophet's  and 
said: 

"Pier  No.  5;  three  o'clock  sharp.  Horton 
will  be  there,  and  one  or  two  others." 

Colonel  Christmas  rose  and  tapped  his 
coffee-cup  and  called  the  school  to  order. 


92  THE   MASTER 

He  said  that  he  was  proud  of  the  honour  of 
presiding  at  the  dinners  of  our  club.  He 
saw  the  footprints  of  high  thought  in  every 
face  at  the  table  (laughter  and  applause  and 
'lies  of  not  guilty).  He  saw  brows  shaped 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  laurel.  (More 
applause  and  the  query:  "How  about  our 
necks?"  and  the  Colonel  answered  that  they 
were  beneath  his  observation.)  He  fondly 
hoped  that  the  club  was  making  history  and 
that  some  of  its  humble  efforts  wen*  to  pass 
into  literature.  He  would  begin  the  flow 
of  soul  with  a  poem  —  a  rather  remarkable 
poem,  he  would  venture  to  say  —  from  the 
facile  pen  of  Mr.  Holm. 

I  had  written  some  account  of  Rog  Rone\ 
adventure  in  battle  and  presented  it  forth 
with  •-- my  first  contribution  to  the  minutes 
of  the  club. 

A  number  of  reporters  had  been  invited  to 
confess  their  worst  sins,  and  so  that  the  reader 
may  be  fairly  warned  of  his  company  at  the 
Lanthorne  sign  I  have  copied  one  of  them 
from  the  minutes  of  the  club.  Pipps  set  the 
ball  going. 

"I  will  now  show  you  the  hard  spots  in  a  ten 
der  man."  said  he,  and  proceeded  to  tell  how  he 
had  gone  to  witness  a  hanging  in  New  Jersey. 


THE   MASTER  93 

The  unfortunate  man  was  to  be  hanged  at  three 
o'clock,  and  Pipps  had  asked  all  concerned 
to  make  it  two,  so  as  to  give  him  time  to  get 
his  account  in  the  evening  paper.  The 
sheriff  had  consented  on  one  condition  —  he 
must  get  the  concurrence  of  the  doomed  man. 
Pipps  presented  his  argument  to  the  latter. 

"You  have  to  be  hanged  anyway,  and  the 
sooner  the  better,"  he  said.  "It  would  be  a 
great  favour  to  me." 

"We're  alike  as  two  peas,"  said  the  mur 
derer  as  he  surveyed  the  young  man.  :<Will 
you  be  kind  enough  to  be  hanged  in  my  place  ? 
I'll  take  your  suit  and  you  take  mine,  and  I'll 
write  the  story.  You'll  have  to  be  hanged 
some  time,  and  the  sooner  the  better.  It  would 
be  a  great  favour  to  me." 

The  last  man  to  be  presented  was  the  lec 
turer  in  a  dime  museum.  He  was  wont  to 
stand  all  day  in  a  dress  suit  and  descant  in 
rhyme  on  the  freaks  and  wonders  of  the  show. 
He  called  himself  a  poet,  and  had  long  black 
hair  and  one  eye,  and  regarded  his  gift  with 
delightful  gravity.  He  spoke  with  a  slight 
English  accent. 

"I  have  always  enjoyed  literature,"  he 
began.  "I  once  wrote  a  one-act  version  of 
Macbeth,  in  which  I  toured  England  and  the 


94  THE   MASTER 

provinces  with  my  daughter.  Stunning  suc 
cess  !  Great  applause !  Unanimous  commen 
dation  from  press  and  public!  My  daughter 
is  a  wonderful  scholar  and  we  live  in  a  lovely 
flat  in  Sixteenth  Street.  When  I  have  a 
poem  to  write  I  sit  down  in  my  little  library 
and  go  into  a  kind  of  trance."  (He  called  it 
trulmce).  "My  daughter  keeps  away  from 
me  then  for,  like  all  poets,  I  am  apt  to  be  cross 
in  the  act  of  composing.  By  and  by  it  comes 
like  a  flash  —  I  couldn't  tell  ye  how  -  -  and 
there  it  is  —  a  long  poem  or  perhaps  only  a 
little  gem  of  half  a  dozen  lines.  I  laugh  with 
joy,  and  my  daughter  enters  and  I  read  it  to 
her.  I  have  written  a  reversible  poem  which 
will  do  for  a  fat  boy  or  a  living  skeleton.  It 
is  as  follows: 

"'There  was  a  boy 
His  mamma's  joy 

His  papa's  pride  and  pet, 
The  more  he'd  eat 
Of  bread  and  meat 
The  thinner  he  would  get.' 

"Now  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  change  thinner 
to  fatter  and  the  poem  is  reversed.  I  wrote 
it  in  three  minutes  by  the  watch.  Of  course, 
it  is  a  gift  like  playing  the  violin  or  telling  a 
fortune. 


THE   MASTER  95 

"I  can  make  a  rhyme  for  any  word  in  the 
language,"  the  one-eyed  poet  went  on.  "I 
am  probably  the  only  bard  living  who  has 
made  a  rhyme  for  'orange,'  and  another  for 
'month.'  A  man  offered  me  ten  dollars  to  do 
it,  and  my  daughter  found  that  there  was  a 
province  in  Wales  called  the  Bloringe,  and  a 
Hindu  book  of  etiquette  which  is  known  as 
a  grunth.  In  a  second  I  had  the  poem,  and 
I  will  now  recite  it  for  you : 

"  '  From  the  Indies  to  the  Bloringe 

The  Grand  Mogul  came  in  a  month 
All  the  way  he  sucked  an  orange 
While  he  gaily  read  a  grunth.'" 

This  exploit  of  the  suctorious  Mogul  was 
greeted  with  applause,  as  it  well  deserved  to  be. 

The  one-eyed  poet  paused  and  amiably 
scanned  the  faces  at  the  table  and  continued: 

"Shakespeare  said  that  the  poet  is  born  and 
not  made.  It  is  true,  gentlemen.  Poetry  is 
a  gift  and  I  thank  God  for  it.  Poetry  has 
given  me  my  place  as  the  best  paid  introducer 
of  curiosities  in  the  world  and  the  only  one 
who  writes  a  poem  for  every  novelty.  I  must 
now  hurry  to  the  last  performance  of  our 
world-renowned  convention  of  curiosities. 
Gentlemen,  I  thank  you,  one  and  all,  for  your 
kind  and  generous  applause.  Good  night." 


96  THE   MASTER 

With  this,  and  a  wave  of  his  hand,  the  one- 
eyed  poet  left  us  and  hurried  into  the  night. 
Our  pent  emotions,  suddenly  released,  quite 
overcame  u- 

"It's  the  best  exhibit  of  one-eyed  poetry 
that  I  ever  saw,"  said  Pipps. 

'There's  nothing  half  so  funny  as  the  lack 
of  humour,"  said  Darklight,  and  that,  indeed, 
was  the  lesson  which  came  of  it. 

But,  as  for  myself,  I  was  not  yet  done  with 
the  bard,  having  promised,  in  a  moment  of 
weakness,  to  try  to  find  a  publisher  for  his 
verse. 

Colonel  Christinas  had  become  suspicious 
and  also  indirect  in  his  walk  and  conversation 
when  we  left  the  inn.  Keeping  him  upright 
was  attended  by  such  a  degree  of  danger  and 
difficulty  that  we  hailed  a  hansom  and  helped 
the  Colonel  into  it.  His  broad  person  filled 
the  seal,  and  Lovel  and  I  eronehcd  by  his 
feet  and  directed  the  driver  to  his  lodgings. 
When  we  arrived  there  Colonel  Oiristnia< 
had  gone  to  sleep.  We  tried  to  waken  him 
but  could  only  produce  a  dangerous  and 
spasmodic  movement  of  his  arms  and  feet. 
The  driver  tried  force  and  persuasion,  but 
the  Colonel  brushed  him  aside  and  continued 
his  slumber. 


THE   MASTER  97 

"You  may  as  well  try  to  move  a  house," 
said  the  driver  in  despair;  "he's  got  us 
anchored,  and  me  engaged  for  a  ball." 

There  was  no  help  for  it;  we  must  await 
the  revival  of  Colonel  Christmas,  and  that  is 
what  we  did.  A  street  lamp  stood  near  us 
and  we  sat  down  and  leaned  against  the  post 
while  our  driver,  who  had  an  engagement 
for  a  ball,  complained  bitterly  of  his  ill  luck. 
He  held  his  peace,  however,  when  I  assured 
him  that  he  should  be  well  paid. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  a  young 
woman  passed  us  and  inquired  her  way. 
She  was  still  in  sight  when  a  policeman  stopped 
her,  and  so  rudely  that  we  jumped  to  our 
feet  and  ran  toward  them.  The  policeman 
had  arrested  the  girl,  who  was  now  sobbing, 
and  started  away  with  her.  Lovel  stopped 
him  and  asked  what  she  had  done. 

"You  keep  out  of  this,"  said  the  officer, 
"or  I'll  take  you,  too." 

"Please  give  me  your  number,"  Lovel 
demanded. 

The  officer  answered  more  rudely  than 
before,  and  made  off  with  the  prisoner. 

'You  attend  the  Colonel,"  said  my  friend 
as  he  turned  to  me.  "As  for  myself,  I  must 
go  where  they  go."  So  saying  he  disappeared 


98  THE   MASTER 

in  the  darkness  and  I  saw  no  more  of  him 
until  morniiiLT. 

It  was  growing  light  when  the  Colonel 
came  to  and  stumMed  out  of  the  rah.  He  fell 
upon  the  anxious  driver,  bearing  him  to  the 
ground  and  wounding  his  spirit  worse  than 
his  l>od\ ,  as-  luck  would  have  it.  I  could  not 
help  laughing. 

"Sir,  rejoice  not  in  the  fall  of  friend  or 
enemy,"  said  Colonel  Christina-,  having  strug 
gled  to  his  feet.  "This  is  disgraceful." 

"It's  awful,  sir,"  said  the  driver  in  a  tone 
of  complaint.  ''You  grabbed  my  cab  and 
went  to  sleep  on  me,  an'  couldn't  be  woke, 
an'  I  engaged  for  a  ball.  It's  dirty  mean/* 

"Poor  man!    Why  didn't  you  wake  me?" 

"Didn't  I  try?  an'  ain't  I  all  hammered 
to  a  jelly?" 

"Heal  your  wounds  and  be  off,"  said 
Colonel  Christmas  severely  as  he  gave  the 
driver  a  twenty-dollar  bill.  The  latter  drove 
away  and  the  Colonel  turned  to  me  and  said: 

"Sir,  forgive  me.  I  have  the  heart  of  an 
honest  man  and  the  intellect  of  an  ass;  I  am 
as  a  ship  without  a  compass.  Will  you 
kindly  steer  me  to  my  door.-" 

That  I  did  forthwith  and  started  for  my 
own  lodgings  on  Waverly  Place. 


THE   MASTER  99 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  tap  of  a  cane  on  the 
pavement  close  behind  me  and  turned  and 
saw  Rog  Rone  approaching  with  his  hurried 
and  familiar  limp.  The  sound  quickened 
my  heart  and  pace  a  little  for  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  man  had  sprung  out  of  the  ground. 
I  had  seen  nothing  of  him  since  leaving  the 
Mug  although  more  than  once  I  had  heard 
the  tap  of  his  cane.  My  introduction  to  the 
war  sign  had  made  me  step  softly.  I  had 
worn  a  false  beard  and  put  a  limp  in  my  walk 
when  returning  after  hours  from  my  task  and 
had  gone  to  bed  in  the  dim  window-light  and 
often  before  falling  asleep  I  had  heard  the 
tap,  tap  of  a  cane  on  the  pavement  beneath 
my  windows.  Every  night  too,  I  had  heard 
it  in  my  dreams.  Now  I  felt  some  alarm  but 
quickly  put  it  down. 

"Ho  there,  friendy!"  said  the  Cap'n  as  we 
came  under  a  street  lamp.  "Whatever's 
this  'ere  on  yer  coat  sleeve?" 

He  put  his  knotty  fore-finger  on  the  back 
of  my  elbow  as  he  spoke. 

"Fore  God,  matey  —  its  the  red  target  - 
sure  as  ye're  born,"  he  went  on  as  he  tore  the 
tiny  paster  from  the  sleeve  of  my  coat. 

''What  does  it  mean?"  I  asked,  my  nerves 
tingling  with  fresh  alarm. 


100  THE    MASTER 

'AVhat  dues  it  mean  ? —  you  says,"  he 
began  in  a  tone  just  above  a  whisper.  "  I 
says  it  im -an>  yer  marked,  pippin — tagged  an' 
tieketed  for  yer  'eavenly  'ome,  boy,  like  a 
lamb  in  a  crate  on  his  way  to  the  butcher's — 
an*  what  do  ye  think  'o  that  .- 

He  tore  the  piece  of  paper  into  bits. 

"An'  what  does  this  mean --I'd  like  to 
know?"  he  said  as  he  scattered  them  in  the 
wind.  "  It  means  that  Tin  tryiuk  to  help  ye  - 
so  it  does.  It  means  that  yer  own  father 
couldn't  love  ye  no  better,  I  dan  j.ivMime 
to  say." 

I  looked  at  him,  sorely  puzzled,  and  for  a 
breath  it  seemed  to  me  that  Lovel  must  have 
been  wrong  in  his  estimate  of  this  singular 
man. 

"Thank you,"  1  said,  "but  I  wi>h  you  would 
explain  to  me  how  it  i.s  that  I  am  so  flattered. 
I  never  thought  myself  big  enough  to  be  in 
anybody's  way." 

''It's  your  trouble,  pippin,  as  the  bin! 
said  to  the  worm,"  Uog  Rone  went  on  as 
we  resumed  our  walk.  *%  1  happm  to  km>\\ 
some  things  that  you  don't,  an'  you  kin.u 
some  that  I  don't,  which,  as  I  often  say, 
is  the  way  o'  the  world  an'  no  wonder.  AVe 
l»oth  have  enemies,  I  dare  proume  to  say.  I 


THE   MASTER 

knowed  that  you  was  marked,  long  ago,  an'  I 
says  to  myself,  I  says,  Cap'n  Rog,  don't  ye  let 
no  harm  come  to  the  dear  pippin  —  hope  to  die 
if  I  didn't  an'  I  kep'  an'  eye  on  ye,  matey  —  so 
I  did  —  an'  I  warned  them  as  wanted  t'  do 
ye  harm.  Many  a  night  I've  seen  ye  git  off 
the  car  at  Broadway  with  them  there  whiskers 
on  an'  a  hitch  in  yer  gait  an'  I  knowed  ye  — 
an'  kep'  my  eye  on  ye  very  sharp  an'  care 
ful—so  I  did." 

I  was  dumb  with  surprise  for  half  a  moment. 
At  the  next  lamp  light  I  stopped  and  looked 
into  the  wrinkled  face  of  the  Cap'n. 

"You  are  the  most  singular  man  that  I  ever 
met  in  my  life,"  I  said.  "  Why,  why  have  you 
done  this?" 

"  'Cause  I've  took  a  fancy  to  ye  an'  I'll  make 
ye  rich  one  o'  these  days  — you  mind  my  word, 
pippin."  Rone  gave  me  a  shrewd  wink. 

"You  an'  me'll  do  some  business  together  — 
I  feel  it  in  my  bones,"  he  added. 

"Look  here,"  I  said,  as  I  drew  a  large 
revolver  from  my  pocket,  "I'm  prepared  to 
defend  myself.  They'd  better  let  me  alone." 

"Hell's  bells!  throw  it  overboard,  matey," 
said  the  Cap'n  with  a  leer  of  contempt.  "It's 
no  good  whatever  at  all." 

He  stopped  me  and  whispered  as  he  stood 


102  THE    MASTER 

squinting  up  at  me.     "I'll  tell  ye  suthink  - 
you  take  me  up  to  your  (|iiarters  an'  I'll  hell 
tin-  reefs  as  good  as  I'm  able        hope  to  die  if 
I  don't." 

We  were  near  my  door  and  presently  I 
paused  with  my  hand  upon  the  gate  thinking 
that  after  all  it  could  do  no  harm  to  admit  him. 

"I  can't  open  my  yawp  here  —  it  ain't 
•-ail't,"  the  Cap'n  whispered  as  he  looked  up 
and  down  the  street. 

"Come  in,"  I  said  as  I  swung  the  iron  gate 
and  mounted  the  steps. 

"Very  neat  and  tidy  -  -  I  call  it,"  said  Rone 
when  I  had  lighted  the  gas  and  drawn  the 
window  shades.  "Now  as  to  your  sailink 
orders.  I  wouldn't  have  no  gas  here,  pippin. 
Have  it  turned  off  o'  this  room.  Candles 
is  better  —  so  I  say.  Number  two:  Be 
careful  where  ye  go  after  dark.  Don't  study 
astronomy  no  more  than  what  ye  have  to. 
One  day  they  found  a  man  under  High  Bridge. 
It  looked  as  if  he'd  fell,  so  it  did,  an'  no  wonder 
beink  as  they  found  a  letter  in  his  pocket 
which  said  he  was  tired  o'  life.  Now  you'll 
think  that  was  done  very  neat,  Cappy,  an' 
so  it  was  but-  Hell's  bells!  I've  hearn  o' 
things  --  say,  one  day  a  hoss  run  away  an' 
smashed  his  owner.  Now  all  they'd  done  in 


THE   MASTER  103 

the  world  was  to  sprinkle  some  dry  mustard 
on  the  saddle  blanket  —  so  I've  hearn  —  an' 
he  was  the  Mayor  of  a  big  city.  It's  plum 
shameful  an'  no  mistake.  I  don'  know 
nothink  at  all  'cept  what  I've  hearn,  mind  ye, 
an'  that's  come  a  long  cruise,  I  dare  presume 
to  say,  an'  maybe  it's  all  a  lie,  but  step  careful, 
pippin.  Keep  both  feet  on  the  ground  an' 
when  ye  pick  one  up  look  where  ye  put  it  down, 
an'  mind  this:  Yer  in  danger  only  when  ye 
think  yer  saift,  an'  that's  the  God's  truth." 

The  Cap'n  paused  to  fill  his  pipe  and  I  sat 
staring  into  his  face  and  mentally  feeling  for 
bottom  in  this  dark  business. 

"Now  I'll  p'int  out  the  worst  reefs  in  yer 
way,  Cappy,  if  ye  promise  not  t'  breathe  a  word 
o'  what  I  say  or  don't  say,  or  neither  o'  what 
I've  said  a'ready  which  is  no  more'n  right. 
Ye  must  keep  as  still  as  a  bull  bat  or  my  ol' 
gizzerd  '11  be  tore  out  and  flung  in  a  basket 
an'  me  with  my  eyes  open  a  seeink  how  it's 
done,  which  ain't  no  kind  of  a  show  fer  a  swell 
gent  to  see  —  is  it  now  ?" 

I  agreed  with  him  and  held  up  my  right 
hand  and  took  the  oath  that  he  demanded. 

"Since  ye  left  the  Mug  ye've  cruised  about 
in  bad  comp'ny,  so  ye  have,"  he  began  again. 
"Better  luff  an'  get  before  the  wind.  If  ye  do 


104  THE   MASTER 

that  it  may  be  —  it  just  may  be  that  ye'll  see 
no  more  o'  the  war  sign.  Don't  ye  see,  pippin, 
that  when  a  gun  is  beink  aimed  at  a  bird  he's 
very  partic'lar  bad  comp'ny  fer  other  birds 
an'  no  mistaki  " 

I  saw  at  once  that  this  dark  hint  of  his 
related  to  the  shoemaker. 

"I  understand  you,"  I  said,  "and  I  shall 
warn  my  friend."  I  raised  my  hand  and  added : 
"Of  course,  I  shall  be  careful  not  to  ( onij^ru- 
mise  you." 

The  Cap'n  said  nothing  of  my  remark  but 
looked  into  my  eyes  and  added  with  a  shrewd 
wink : 

'You  was  to  go  into  the  eight*  ward  to 
morrow  night." 

That  struck  me  dumb.  I  had  promised 
to  go  there  and  report  a  ball  to  be  given  by  a 
certain  politician  of  ill  repute  and  how  had  he 
learned  of  it?  I  made  no  answer  but  the 
old  ruffian  had  noted  my  surprise. 

"Better  go  to  bed,  Cappy,"  he  remarked 
as  he  emptied  his  pipe. 

Rog  Rone  limped  to  the  window  and  peered 
behind  the  shade  and  gave  a  low  whistle. 

i4  There's  a  little  crack  in  the  sky,  shipmate. 
I  must  be  off,"  he  whispered  as  he  left  me  and 
limped  hurriedly  down  the  stairs.  I  went  with 


THE   MASTER  105 

him  to  the  door  and  he  asked  me  to  look  out 
and  see  if  any  one  was  in  sight  and  I  gazed 
up  and  down  the  street,  which  was  still  dark 
and  deserted,  and  in  half  a  moment  I  saw  him 
disappearing  in  the  gloom. 

When  I  had  gone  to  bed  the  rough,  hairy 
old  skipper  haunted  my  thought  and  seemed 
to  threaten  me.  Somehow  this  fond  solicitude, 
this  mawkish,  bland  benevolence  fitted  him 
very  ill.  Back  of  it  all  was  some  deep  purpose 
—  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it  —  and  I  knew 
well  that  of  all  the  knaves  I  had  ever  met  he 
was  the  one  to  be  watched.  But  I  could  not 
imagine  what  he  was  driving  at. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Some  men  there  are  whose  virtue  issues  from  them 
with  the  noise  of  clanging  gates ;  in  others  it  dwells  at 
silent  as  the  maid  who  never  stirs  from  home,  but  sits 
thoughtfully  by  the  fireside,  always  ready  to  welcome 
those  who  enter  from  the  cold  without. 

MAETERLINCK 

1  FOUND  a  rather  painful  surprise  in 
certain  morning  newspapers.  Under 
black-faced  head-lines  they  alleged  that  Ben 
Lovel,  hero  of  the  Beasly  School  fire,  and  the 
lately  elected  president  of  the  Mechanics' 
Union,  had  had  a  row  with  patrolman  Conley 
at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  over  the  arrest 
of  a  disreputable  young  woman  of  the  Ninth 
Ward.  In  the  midst  of  it  another  officer  had 
arrested  the  young  man.  Conley  alleged 
that  Lovel  had  followed  and  finally  assaulted 
him,  and  accused  him  of  having  an  improper 
interest  in  the  girl.  The  reporters  had  seen 
Lovel  at  the  station  house,  but  he  would  say 
nothing  for  publication. 

I  knew  the  heart  of  my  friend,  or  thought  I 
knew  it.  Its  great  kindness  had  brought  his 
shame  upon  him.  The  unscrupulous  pair 

106 


THE   MASTER  107 

had  blackened  him  in  order  to  save  them 
selves  and  be  revenged  for  his  interference. 
Without  a  moment's  delay  I  hurried  to  Kerri 
gan  Place,  but  the  shop  was  locked.  I 
returned  at  eight  o'clock  that  evening  and 
found  Ben  Lovel  at  his  bench  in  the  little 
shop.  He  looked  up  with  a  smile. 

"My  master!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  am  glad 
to  see  you.  To-night,  to-night  is  our  time. 
The  Council  meets.  It  will  choose  between 
peace  and  war.  Wisdom  and  folly  will  strive 
together,  and  I  hope  —  I  believe  it  is  the  begin 
ning  of  a  great  victory." 

I  held  a  newspaper  in  my  hand  and  tried 
to  speak,  but  he  stopped  me  and  went  on. 

"I  have  seen  Horton.  He  has  promised 
a  million  for  our  cause.  He  trusts  my  master, 
Condon." 

"Have  you  seen  the  morning  papers?" 
I  asked. 

"O,  that  is  a  little  matter!"  he  exclaimed. 
"They  have  turned  upon  me  like  wolves,  but, 
my  dear  Richard,  I  have  had  scarcely  time  to 
think  of  it." 

"But  —  but  I  fear  it  will  do  you  harm," 
I  said.  "One  must  look  out  for  his  repu 
tation." 

"  It  is  good,  but  there  is  that  which  is  better," 


108  THE    MASTER 

s;iid  my  friend  as  he  sat  down  and  went  on 
with  hi»  t,-i-k. 

I  looked  at  him  in  silence  and  divined  his 
meaning. 

"Some  will  despise  me,  but  I  cannot  help 
it,"  he  added;  "some  who  are  dear  to  me 
will  turn  away,  but  I  put  justice  above 
them." 

"I  shall  p>  and  tell  what  I  know  about  it," 
I  said. 

"No;  I  see  my  way  clearly  and  you  can 
irive  me  no  help.  Hold  your  peace  if  you 
are  my  friend.  The  girl  will  stand  with 
the  officer  -  she  cannot  help  it.  They 
will  cover  me  with  shame  but,  by  and  by, 
they  will  open  their  mouths  with  astonish 
ment." 

I  stood  looking  at  him. 

"It  would  serve  no  purpose,  and  then  there 
are  Mr.  Horton  and  the  young  lady,"  he  added. 
"They  will  think  ill  of  you." 

I  looked  into  the  calm,  gentle  face  of  my 
friend  and  felt  like  a  sparrow  addressing  a 
swan. 

"I  shall  be  proud  of  your  friendship, 
always,"  I  said  to  him.  "If  I  can  help  you 
I  must,  whatever  happens." 

"I   am   of   small    aeecumt,"    he   answered. 


THE   MASTER  109 

"I  am  thinking  of  my  many  brothers  in  the 
wide  world,  and  I  tell  you  the  millionaire  is 
fond  of  my  master,  Condon." 

"Why  do  you  think  that?" 

"Else,  it  appears  to  me,  he  would  not  have 
promised  so  large  a  sum  to  the  order.  We 
owe  much  to  the  book,  my  master.  It  is 
better  than  a  host  in  arms.  It  has  converted 
some  of  the  greatest  captains  in  the  army 
of  Discontent.  Aided  by  the  authority  of 
Condon,  it  has  turned  many  from  war  to 
peace  and  will  turn  many  more.  Letters 
are  coming  from  all  parts  of  the  earth,  and 
they  say:  'You  have  convinced  me.  Let 
us  hear  no  more  of  war." 

"One  thing  I  wish  to  speak  about  —  I  have 
reason  to  think  that  your  life  is  in  great  danger. 
Don't  go  out  unless  some  one  is  with  you." 
I  cautioned. 

"What  of  Rone?"  he  asked. 

"I  have  seen  him  but  once  since  leaving 
the  Mug." 

"We  both  have  cause  to  fear  him,"  said 
Lovel. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  had  not  passed  before 
my  ear  caught  the  familiar  cane-tap  of  the 
Cap'n  coming  nearer  on  the  avenue,  beyond 
Kerrigan  Place.  We  sat  listening  in  silence 


110  THE   MASTER 

while  it  passed  the  shop.  Presently  it  ceased 
and  we  heard  the  clanking  latch  of  the  door 
of  the  Lanthorne. 

"He  has  entered  the  inn,"  Lovel  whispered. 

I  was  weary  and  in  need  of  sleep,  and  he 
saw  it. 

"Go  into  ray  little  room  and  lie  down  and 
rest  yourself,"  he  said.  "I  have  business 
on  my  hands  and  may  presently  need  your 
help." 

I  fell  asleep  soon  and  was  aroused  by  foot 
steps  on  the  stairs  and  the  opening  of  the 
outer  door.  I  heard  the  low,  deep  voice  of 
Condon  and  another  which  was  new  to  me. 
Then  the  voice  of  Lovel  saying: 

"Sit  down  — my  masters." 

"Let  us  proceed  to  business,"  said  Condon. 

"Yes,"  Lovel  answered,  "we  have  much 
work  to  do." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  listen  and  hold  my 
peace,"  said  Condon.  'You've  got  my  hands 
tied.  I'm  only  looking  for  arguments." 

"I'm  in  favour  of  war  because  I  do 
not  see  how  we  can  dodge  it,"  said  the 
voice  of  the  stranger.  "The  preparations 
are  made." 

"Well,  suppose  we  call  a  great  convention 
of  the  order,"  Lovel  began.  "Let  us  say 


THE   MASTER  111 

that  it  is  to  assemble  in  the  city  of  London. 
Every  man  is  to  carry  in  his  pockets  a  spec 
ially  made  rifle  consisting  of  twenty  pieces,  and 
forty  rounds  of  ammunition  under  a  false 
bottom  in  his  trunk.  There  are  a  hundred 
thousand  of  our  men  in  the  army  of  Great 
Britain  and  many  more  in  its  workshops  — 
men  who  will  turn  to  us,  it  may  be,  in  the  hour 
of  our  need.  At  a  certain  time  of  the  day  of 
assembly  the  best  ships  in  the  British  navy 
are  destroyed.  In  the  midst  of  the  excitement 
that  follows  your  war  begins.  Suddenly  a  great 
army  has  possession  of  the  streets  and  has 
begun  its  work  of  destruction " 

The  voice  of  the  stranger  interrupted  him 
saying: 

"My  God,  man!  where  did  you  hear  of 
that?" 

"Oh,  I'm  only  supposing,"  Lovel  went  on. 
"It's  one  of  many  plans  which  come  to  my 
mind  and  I  doubt  if  you  could  make  a  better 
one,  and  yet  it  is  worthless." 

"Why?"    the    stranger    asked. 

"Because  if  you  divide  a  secret  among 
many  it  is  no  longer  a  secret.  The  chain  is 
no  stronger  than  its  weakest  link.  It  will 
break  and  crush  you.  Some  one  or  more  of 
them  will  turn  honest  and  that  will  overthrow 


112  THE   MASTER 

you.     But    suppose    the    chain    holds --you 
would  he  found  out." 

"Why?" 

"Because  the  eyes  of  all  good  men  have  the 
power  to  behold  rvil  though  it  be  hidden. 
The  eyes  of  men  are  never  satisfied  but  are 
ever  trying  the  hearts  of  their  brothers,  with 
a  wondrous  gift.  Have  you  never  been 
astonished  by  them?" 

"(iod  knows  I  have,"  said  Condon. 

"But  suppose  you  elude  all  vigilance  and  the 
chain  holds  ami  you  take  the  city,"  Lovel 
went  on.  "Do  you  believe  in  the  justice  of 
God  and  the  teaching  of  our  Grfat  Master 
Jesus?" 

"I  do,  but  what  lias  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"Fool!      You  cannot  serve   two  mash  ;-. 
said    the    young    man    with    feeling.      'You 
must  either  abandon  your  ( iod  or  your  war  - 
there  is  no  middle  ground." 

"But  is  not  our  cause  just?"  the  .stranger 
queried. 

"  Aye,  suppose  it  be  so  —  still  if  you  go  to  war 
you  blacken  it  with  injustice  far  greater  than 
that  of  which  you  complain.  And  your  God 
becomes  a  name  only  and  your  religion  a  jest 
and  your  souls  return  to  pagan  darkness. 
For  suppose,  having  succeeded  thus  far  you 


THE   MASTER  113 

set  out  to  conquer  the  world.  Now,  whatever 
your  lips  may  say,  this  will  be  the  prayer  of 
your  hearts  every  morning: 

O  God !  help  us  this  day  to  forget  Thy 
commandments.  Help  us  to  hate  our 
brothers  and  to  slay  them  with  the  sword 
and  to  ravage  their  houses  and  lay  waste 
their  fields.  Help  us  to  deceive  them 
with  our  spies  and  our  stratagems  so  that 
when  we  fall  upon  them  at  last  we  shall 
smite  every  horse  with  astonishment  and 
his  rider  with  madness  and  make  them 
an  easy  prey.  Thou  hast  said  that 
we  shall  not  steal,  but  O  God!  help  us 
this  day  to  lay  hold  of  their  treasure  and 
make  it  our  own.  Help  us  to  fill  every 
heart  with  despair  and  every  house  with 
mourning.  Help  us  this  day  to  heed 
not  the  cry  of  child  or  woman  or  stricken 
warrior  but  help  us  rather  to  delight  in 
sorrow  and  death  and  all  evil.  And 
this  we  ask  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 
Amen. 

"Now,  my  masters,  do  you  not  see  that 
your  purpose  cannot  endure  this  test,  that 
you  have  forfeited  all  right  to  prayer  and  to 
divine  aid  and  mercy  w^hen  you  go  into  battle  ?" 

An  impressive  silence  followed.  Then  a 
stir  and  the  voice  of  Condon  saying: 

"Let  us  go." 


114  THE   MASTER 

The  two  went  away  and  Lovel  came  into 
the  bedroom  with  his  candle. 

"I  did  not  expect  them,"  said  he,  "but 
seeing  them  here  I  threw  my  last  stone.  I 
could  not  help  it  for  I  shall  have  no  other 
chance  to  talk  with  them.  You  have  heard 
all,  but  no  matter.  There  is  nothing  more  to 
be  done." 

In  that  hour  I  had  begun  to  know  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Thousands  and  thousands  of  things  quiver  in  silence 
on  the  lips  of  true  friendship  and  love  that  are  not  to  be 
found  in  the  silence  of  other  lips  to  which  friendship 
and  love  are  unknown.  MAETERLINCK 

IT  WILL  be  remembered  that  next  day 
Darklight  was  to  make  history,  and  there 
in  he  achieved  signal  and  unexpected  success 
upon  my  person,  but  not  otherwise.  I  went  to 
Pier  No.  5,  at  the  hour  appointed.  Pipps,  Hig- 
gins,  and  Darklight  stood  waiting  for  me.  The 
latter  betrayed  signs  of  deep  excitement.  He 
called  us  close  together  and  whispered  mys 
teriously. 

"Separate,  and  make  for  the  Staten  Island 
ferry  house.  I'm  afraid  of  being  watched  and 
followed." 

He  displayed  and  flaunted  his  mystery 
before  us  with  a  keen  delight  in  it. 

"Give  us  some  idea  of  the  nature  of  the 
crime,"  Pipps  urged. 

"It's  innocent  enough,"  said  Darklight. 
"  I'm  only  afraid  of  the  other  papers.  You'll  see 
a  great  act.  A  multi-millionaire  will  be  there 
and  if  he  likes  the  show  my  fortune  is  made." 

115 


116  THE   MASTER 

We  separated  and  went  by  diverse  routes  to 
the  ferry.  To  my  great  .surprise  I  found  Mr. 
Horton  and  his  daughter  in  the  waiting-room. 

The  great  i.ian  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder 
and  said  laughingly: 

"Glad  to  see  you,  my  1><>\  !  I  understood 
that  you  were  going  and  thought  I  would 
bring  Miss  Ruth.  She  has  an  eye  for 
history  and  I  believe  that  we  are  to  see  the 
making  of  a  bit  of  it;  you  must  help  me 
to  look  out  for  her,  and  remember/'  he  added 
with  a  smile,  "I'm  not  to  let  her  go  falling 
in  love." 

"I'll  be  a  stern  deputy,"  I  promised  ;is  we 
went  aboard. 

I  sat  down  with  the  young  lady,  while  her 
father  stood  on  the  open  deck  with  my  l'riend>. 
Suddenly,  I  knew  that  she  vpAfl  aware  of  my 
secret-  it  may  have  been  her  eyes  that  told 
me.  Then  I  confessed: 

"  1  have  M>  much  to  sa\  ,  and  there  is  so  little 
that  I  can  say." 

"I  know,"  she  answered  quickly;  "but 
let  us  use  words  for  politeness,  ,md  the  state 
of  the  weather,  and  all  that  little  business." 

"And  say  the  best  truth  in  silence?"  I 
queried. 

'And  wrap  ourselves  in  mystery  and  see 


THE   MASTER  117 

if  we  can  solve  the  riddle.  We  shall  be  like  a 
book  that  is  half  read." 

"Do  you  know  what  I  am  saying  to  you 
now?"  I  asked. 

She  looked  into  my  eyes  and  I  remember 
as  if  it  were  a  thing  of  to-day  just  what  her  own 
said  to  me,  but  she  only  nodded,  and  then  I 
thought  her  beautiful. 

"I  warn  you,  that  a  woman  is  no  easy 
riddle,"  she  remarked.  "You  may  be  far 
from  the  truth  when  you  feel  sure  that  you 
know  her.  She  is  lucky  if  she  knows  herself." 

"It's  a  pretty  mystery,"  I  said.  "Men 
are  not  so  difficult." 

"They  are  like  the  riddle  of  the  Sphinx," 
she  answered  with  a  laugh.  "I  cannot  make 
them  out.  Think  of  your  friend  Lovel, 
whose  face  and  music  would  remind  you  of 
paradise.  But  I  fear  he's  a  very  common 
fellow." 

I  promptly  took  his  part  and  told,  as  best 
I  could,  how  his  shame  had  come  upon  him, 
and  how  far  he  stood  above  it. 

"I  am  glad  you  told  me,"  she  said  rather 
solemnly.  "  He  is  brave  —  he  is  not  like 
other  men  —  like  most  other  men." 

"I  only  know  that  he  is  far  above  me,"  was 
my  confession.  "I  am  better  for  having 


118  THE   MASTER 

known   the  boy  but --but   I   cannot   follow 
him.     He  is  on  different  ground,  somehow." 
"Would  vou  have  done  what  he  did  ?" 

V 

"Not  yesterday,  but  to-day  -since  my 
talk  with  him  I  would  do  it.  lie  gave  me 
some  of  his  courage." 

"I  wish  that  I  could  know  him  better, 
but  now  —  I  fear  it  is  impossible, "  she  said 
with  regret  in  her  eyes.  "My  friends  are 
so  conventional,  and  perhaps  they  are  right. 
Who  is  he  and  where  does  he  come  from, 
and  how  does  it  happen  that  he's  a  shoe 
maker  ?" 

"I  do  not  know;  he  never  speaks  of  his 
past." 

"  Strange  -  -  isn't  it !"  said  she.  ik  My 
father  doesn't  like  that  trait  in  him.  Why 
should  he  make  a  mystery  of  his  past  ?  One 
cannot  help  thinking  that  it  may  be  very  bad." 

"  At  first  I  wondered,  then  I  began  to  under 
stand,"  was  my  answer.  *  There's  one  man 
he  never  speaks  of,  and  I  am  sure  he  never 
thinks  of  him  —  that's  Ben  Lovel.  It's  a 
part  of  his  scheme  of  life,  to  forget  himself." 

The  boat  had  landed  and  we  all  went 
ashore  and  followed  Darklight.  By  train 
and  carriage  we  came,  by  and  by,  to  the  top 
of  a  lonely  hill  where  two  men  awaited  us,  one 


THE   MASTER  119 

with  a  tripod  and  camera.  On  the  ground 
near  them  were  a  couple  of  big  long  boxes. 

Darklight  jumped  from  the  carriage  and 
approached  the  waiting  pair. 

"Professor,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said 
to  one  of  the  men  who  had  been  awaiting  us. 
"Are  you  ready." 

"  All  ready." 

"Then  open  the  boxes  and  we  will  set  up 
the  machine." 

As  they  broke  the  boxes,  Darklight  called 
Pipps,  Higgins  and  myself  together  and 
whispered : 

"It's  Morgenthal's  flyer!" 

His  chin  trembled.  He  gave  us  an  impres 
sive  look  and  added:  "The  greatest  inven 
tion  of  the  century!" 

He  paused  again  as  if  to  give  us  time  to 
recover,  and  went  on:  "I  propose  to  form  a 
company,  and  Horton  and  other  rich  men  are 
going  to  back  it.  This  man  will  operate  the 
machine.  He's  an  equilibrist  and  high  diver 
from  Barnum's  show.  I  am  to  have  the  first 
story  of  it  published  in  America,  with  the 
pictures  of  the  professor  in  flight.  How's 
that,  for  a  sensation?  The  paper  has  paid 
five  thousand  dollars  to  get  it." 

We  removed  many  rods  of  bamboo  with 


120  THE   MASTER 

bolts  and  clamps  from  the  boxes,  and  Dark- 
light,  who  consulted  a  printed  sheet  of  diiv< 
tions,  told  us  what  to  do.  In  half  an  hour 
two  frames  of  bamboo  covered  with  silk  lay 
stretched  before  us,  like  the  wings  of  a  LTivat 
l»ird,  over  a  span  of  some  forty  feet.  They 
were  soon  connected  with  rods  and  Darklight 
showed  us  how  thr  operator,  standing  U -I  ween 
them,  inserted  an  arm  to  the  shoulder  in  each 
wing,  and  seized  a  pair  of  handles.  There 
were  pasters  on  the  wood-work  of  the  machine, 
printed  in  German,  which  said,  substantially: 

44  This  machine  is  dangerous  -  very  danger 
ous.  Do  not  try  to  fly  it  in  a  wind." 

Of  the  historic  event  promised  there  is 
little  to  be  recorded,  save  my  own  part  in  it. 
The  Professor  began  his  c\|>ei -imcnts  in  a 
gingerly  fashion,  having  been  alarmed  by  tin- 
warnings.  He  took  his  place  in  the  body  of 
the  flyer  and  raised  its  wings  and  stood  still, 
but  nothing  happened.  He  gently  wavrd 
both  wings  but  the  soft  breeze  which  blew 
up  the  hillside  failed  to  accept  his  challenge. 
He  walked  down  the  slope  a  few  steps  and  still 
nothing  came  of  it.  He  ran  a  little,  and  Pipps 
hurled  a  jest  at  him,  and  we  all  laughed. 
The  Professor  grew  l>ravc  and  ran  up  and  d0fl  n 
the  hillside  with  wings  in  the  air  and  his  feet 


THE   MASTER 

always  on  the  ground.  We  turned  upon  Dark- 
light,  who  stood  by  the  camera,  and  gave  him 
a  volley  of  ridicule.  He  made  no  reply  but 
hurried  to  the  Professor  with  new  suggestions. 
They  were  tried,  with  no  better  luck.  The 
Professor  saw  that  he  was  only  making  fun 
for  us  and  crawled  out  of  the  flyer. 

"It's  a  bloomin'  fake!"  he  exclaimed  as  he 
joined  us. 

Darklight's  maker  of  history  lay  deserted 
in  the  grass  and  all  had  a  word  of  contempt 
for  it.  We  began  to  laugh  again,  for  Higgins 
had  taken  the  place  of  the  athlete. 

Our  friend  and  clubmate,  Mr.  Solomon 
Higgins,  had  one  dimension  so  salient  and 
incisive  that  it  entered  his  name,  and  the 
reflections  of  all  who  knew  him.  On  Park 
Row,  from  Broadway  to  the  Bridge,  he  was 
"Lengthy"  Higgins.  He  had  legs  of  unusual 
length  and  the  thickness  of  his  thigh  would 
scarcely  have  exceeded  the  diameter  of  a 
teacup.  He  wore  big,  round  spectacles,  and 
rode  across  the  Bridge  every  morning  on  a 
great,  creaking  bicycle  propelled  by  straps 
and  levers.  He  was  a  man  of  ingenuity, 
whose  words  were  assisted  by  real  insight  and 
a  solemn  countenance. 

He  had  carefully  examined   the  machine 


122  THE   MASTER 

and  now  stood  like  a  heron  alighting,  with 
wings  out.  He  ran  a  few  steps  down  the 
hillside. 

"Boys,  I  believe  I  can  fly  her  like  a  kite," 
said  he.  "Can  you  get  me  a  rope?" 

Darklight  raced  away  in  a  carriage  and 
returned,  by  and  by,  with  the  rope  desired. 
Higgins  made  it  fast  to  a  strong  bar  of  bamboo 
between  the  two  wings.  Then  he  took  his 
place  in  medias  res  and  put  on  the  machine. 
He  stood  with  his  arms  under  the  wings,  and 
said  to  us: 

"You  fellowrs,  run  down  hill  with  the  rope 
and  I'll  follow.  If  she  flies,  hang  on  and 
don't  let  me  go  more  than  four  or  five  feet 
from  the  ground." 

We  took  hold  and  ran  ahead  of  our  slim 
friend  down  the  slope.  There  were  three  or 
four  ineffective  trials  of  this  sort  and  then 
confusion.  Mr.  Higgins  was  going  at  top 
speed  down  the  hill,  as  we  ran  ahead  of  him, 
all  hands  pulling  on  the  rope.  It  was  a  hun 
dred  feet  long,  and  I  clung  near  the  end  of  it. 
Suddenly  we  met  a  vagrant  puff  of  wind. 
Like  a  mad  bull  it  tossed  the  machine.  The 
rope  flashed  through  our  hands  and  felt  like 
hot  iron.  The  heels  of  Mr.  Higgins  came 
together  with  a  loud  whack  above  our  heads. 


THE   MASTER  123 

In  a  twinkling  man  and  machine  had  plunged 
some  two  hundred  feet  into  the  air.  It  was 
like  magic.  I  had  not  seen  them  move. 
They  had  been  here,  and,  presto !  they  were 
there.  The  others  had  let  go  and  a  knot  in 
the  rope's  end  had  struck  my  blistered  hands. 
I  held  on  for  the  sake  of  poor  Higgins,  and 
up  I  went  in  a  long  curve  like  the  snapper  on 
a  whip-lash.  Far  above  me  I  could  see  Mr. 
Higgins,  hurtling  and  curvetting  about,  his 
long  legs  whipping  hither  and  thither,  his 
big,  round  spectacles  glowing  at  every  turn. 
It  produced  an  odd  delusion.  His  move 
ments  were  so  swift  that  he  seemed  to  be  as 
long  as  the  rope  I  clung  to.  He  moved  in 
swoops  and  swirls,  and  drops  and  long  upward 
leaps.  I  got  a  bight  of  the  rope's  end  on  my 
wrist  and  circled  and  swung  and  dared  not 
release  my  hold.  How  I  managed  to  keep 
it  is  more  than  I  can  say,  although  others 
have  told  me  it  was  only  for  a  matter  of  some 
three  or  four  seconds.  I  saw  Mr.  Higgins 
swoop  down  and  flash  up  and  whirl  half  over 
and  come  fluttering  toward  the  earth.  Then 
I  felt  myself  hit  the  ground  and  the  rope  came 
pouring  down  upon  me.  I  heard  voices,  and 
one,  the  sweetness  of  whose  word  and  tone 
I  have  not  yet  forgotten,  but  they  were  faint 


124  THE   MASTER 

and  broken  like  sounds  that  have  come  far 
in  a  wind. 

"Is  this  the  earth?"  I  heard  Higgins 
n>k,  and  then  say:  "I'll  never  jump  off  it 
airain.  If  any  of  you  want  to  be  an  angel, 
here's  your  chance.  I  don't  need  any  more 
practice." 

Then  their  voices  grew  faint  and  stopped 
suddenly.  I  came  to  in  a  moment,  with  Ruth 
Horton  bending  over  me  and  rubbing  my 
brow  with  her  hand.  She  said  not  a  word 
for  half  a  moment,  but  a  tear  fell  from  her 
cheek  upon  mine,  and  helped  me  to  under 
stand  her.  It  was  far  more  to  me  than  any 
thing  she  had  said,  or  could  say. 

They  took  me  to  a  hospital  where  a  surgeon 
found  a  few  broken  bones  in  me,  and  where 
Mi<s  Morton  and  her  father  came  every  day 
with  cheering  words  and  faces. 

"I  don't  think  much  of  that  machine," 
said  Mr.  Horton  next  day.  'The  subject 
of  rapid  transit  to  the  undiscovered  country 
is  not  worth  investigating.  I  loaned  a  few 
hundred  dollars  to  your  friend,  but  refused 
to  take  any  stock  in  the  company.  My 
afternoon  was  not  wasted,  for  we  were  both 
pleased  with  the  demonstration  of  you.  I 
am  glad  to  help  any  enterprise  that  is  likely 


THE   MASTER  125 

to  help  mankind,  and  Holm,  I  wouldn't 
mind  taking  a  little  stock  in  you.  Would 
you  like  the  railroad  business  ?" 

"Of  course  you  would  like  it,"  said  Ruth 
playfully. 

"And  I  will,  if  it  is  your  wish,"  I  said. 

"I  believe  you're  a  good  business  venture," 
Mr.  Horton  added;  "and,  boy,  I'm  going  to 
satisfy  myself  about  it.  I  believe  there's 
something  in  you." 

His  daughter  left  us  and  then   he  added: 

"The  girl  likes  you,  but  you  mustn't  count 
on  that,  boy.  You  have  too  many  rivals 
and  she's  already  lost  her  heart,  I  believe. 
My  wife  has  plans  for  her." 

I  got  his  meaning  and  came  to  know  this  — 
by  putting  two  and  two  together,  no  doubt  — 
that  Mrs.  Horton  did  not  know  the  name  of 
the  sick  man  wThom  her  daughter  visited. 
So,  with  the  help  of  that  and  ray  unrewarded 
visits  to  the  Horton  home,  I  saw  clearly  that 
the  man  and  wife  were  not  of  a  like  mind 
about  me. 

I  had  written  to  Lovel  explaining  my  failure 
to  meet  him,  and  the  letter  quickly  brought 
my  friend.  It  was  a  pleasant  and  wonderful 
thing  —  the  way  he  put  his  hand  upon  my 
head,  the  look  of  his  face,  and  the  sound  of 


126  THE   MASTER 

his  greeting.  The  tenderness  of  it  all  went 
to  my  heart,  and  I  did  not  know  until  then 
how  dear  he  was  to  me.  Ruth  Ilorton  had 
brought  flowers  and  was  decorating  the  room. 
For  a  moment  he  seemed  not  to  see  her.  As 
he  turned  from  me  she  offered  him  her  hand 
and  lie  took  it  and  >;ii<l: 

"I  have  been  condemned  by  the  law  and 
punished,  and  you  --you  seem  not  to  despise 
me." 

"I  know  the  truth  about  you  and  how 
good  and  brave  you  have  been,"  she 
answered. 

"Think  not  of  me  but  of  the  girl,  who  is  as 
one  brought  back  to  life.  I  remember  well 
the  words  of  our  Great  Master,  Jesus,  and  I 
shall  deliver  her  into  His  fold." 

In  the  brief  silence  that  followed,  suggestions 
of  new  trouble  crowded  into  my  thoughts. 

"As  to  myself,"  he  added,  "do  not  expect 
that  I  shall  cease  to  know  trouble.  I  see  my 
way  and  it  leads  not  to  peace." 

With  that  lie  left  us. 

"Wonderful!"  said  Miss  Horton  as  soon 
as  he  was  gone.  "I  could  almost  love  a  man 
like  that.  He  reminds  me  of  the  text  yester 
day:  'His  eyes  shall  be  as  the  noonday;  he 
shall  shine  forth  like  the  morning." 


THE   MASTER  127 

"If  any  man  deserves  the  love  of  so  dear  a 
woman,  it  is  he,"  I  said  with  a  pang  that  I 
had  to  confess  it. 

"But  I  love  him  not  as  the  world  loves." 
she  said. 


CHAPTER  X 

THIS  matter  of  recalling  my  past  is  like 
looking  from  a  mountain-top  into  a 
great  valley  through  which  I  have  made  my 
way.  I  see  where  I  wandered  and  was  lost; 
I  see  vast  shadows  and  broad,  sunlit  spaces, 
and  people  moving  here  and  there.  I  liken 
those  days  in  bed  -  painful  as  (hey  were 
to  the  sunlit  spaces,  remembering  how  thr\ 
were  lighted  with  thoughts  better  than  I  and 
as  noble,  I  dare  hope,  as  had  been  the  kindness 
of  my  friends.  Among  these,  I  count  the  book 
which  I  had  re-read  in  the  light  of  my  newer 
knowledge. 

My  bones  were  healed,  and  I  had  rclurm •<! 
to  my  lodgings  when  Lovel  came  again 

"My  master,  forgive  me,"  he  said.  "1  have 
had  many  ta>ks.  I  have  mended  forty  pairs 
of  shoes  and  the  li«\»rU  of  sundry  poor  fellows 
and  have  left  you  to  the  doctors  and  the 
swreet  young  lady." 

"And  the  book-  Ihe  wonderful  book," 
I  said.  "It  has  been  like  a  wise  father  to  me." 

"We   >hall   see  Condon   to-nirrht."   he  said 

128 


THE   MASTER  129 

with  a  look  of  joy.  "  The  Council  is  for  peace. 
The  Napoleon  has  had  a  battle  and  remains 
emperor.  There  are  some  who  cannot  be 
reconciled.  They  are  like  scattered  sheep 
without  a  shepherd.  Perhaps  you  could  go." 

His  face  brightened  when  I  said  that  I 
should  be  glad  to  go. 

"Much  has  happened  since  you  were  shut 
away  from  us,"  he  went  on.  "My  master, 
Condon,  has  been  named  for  Congress  and 
will  be  elected,  let  us  hope.  He  has  put  his 
hand  to  the  plough  and  cannot  turn  back." 

I  had  not  fully  got  his  meaning  when  he 
stood  that  day,  looking  down  at  me,  his  face 
full  of  enthusiasm.  But  I  had  often  to  be 
content  with  a  partial  understanding  of  his 
words. 

"We  will  go  first  and  honour  the  great 
man,"  he  said  as  he  led  me  out  of  the  little 
shop.  "Come,  you  shall  see  the  ways  of 
pleasantness." 

We  walked  to  one  of  the  large  hotels,  where 
"our  master,  Condon,"  was  being  received 
by  the  President,  the  mayor,  and  other  dis 
tinguished  men.  We  joined  the  many  who 
wished  to  shake  his  hand  and  assure  him  of 
their  debt.  Some  I  saw  who  called  him 
brother  and  spoke  to  him  lovingly  as  one 


130  THE   MASTER 

addresses  a  dear  friend,  and  yet  I  knew  that 
they  had  never  seen  him  before  then.  It 
reminded  me  of  that  line  of  Whitman's: 

44  Do  you  know  what    it    is    as    you    pass   to  be  lorcd    by 
strangers  ?  " 

It  was  a  great  thing  to  have  warmed  the 
heart  of  the  world  and  have  inspired  for  one's 
self  its  grateful  prayer  and  affection;  to  have 
made  millions  of  brothers  with  one  little  book. 
I  spoke  of  that  when  we  had  left  and  were 
walking  away  together,  but  he  made  no  an 
swer  and  I  knew  that  he  was  thinking  of  some 
greater  thing.  We  went  to  the  Lanthorne 
for  a  bite  of  supper,  and  at  eleven  o'clock 
were  on  our  way  to  the  Council  chamber  of 
the  Centre  Link  of  the  Toilers'  Chain. 

It  was  a  place  of  many  perils  which  we 
found  in  the  deep  of  the  night,  and  for  both 
of  us  it  was  like  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death.  \Ve  had  crossed  the  river,  as  before, 
and  tramped  a  mile  or  so  in  dark  streets  when 
a  deep  voice  hailed  us.  It  was  that  of  Condon 
himself,  who  came  out  of  the  darkness  behind 
and  took  the  arm  of  my  friend. 

"I  have  been  watching  for  you,"  said  he 
in  a  low  tone.  "Why  don't  you  take  my 
advice,  and  a  cab  ?  You  need  only  tell 
them  to  charge  the  bill  to  me." 


THE   MASTER  131 

"Did  you  not  know  that  I  am  a  cobbler?" 
my  friend  answered. 

"It  makes  no  difference,"  said  Condon 
with  a  note  of  impatience  in  his  tone. 

"Then  you  do  not  know  why  I  am  a 
cobbler,"  Ben  Lovel  said. 

"You  are  a  bit  of  a  crank,"  Condon 
whispered  rather  sternly.  "Remember  now, 
you  will  go  when  I  hold  my  handkerchief  in 
my  left  hand;  there  will  be  a  cab  at  the  door." 

"Follow  close  behind  us,"  he  commanded 
me  as  he  entered  the  dark  hall  with  his  arm 
in  Lovel's. 

I  did  as  be  bade  me  and  was  soon  in  the 
gloomy  chamber  in  which  nearly  three  months 
before  delegates  from  many  races  and  capitals 
had  sat  together.  Condon  wralked  down  the 
aisle  and  took  his  place  at  the  table  where, 
as  before,  I  saw  a  number  of  lighted  candles. 
We  sat  on  a  bench  near  him.  The  room  was 
crowded.  Condon  tapped  with  his  gavel  and 
called  for  the  minutes,  which  were  read. 
Reports  of  officers  and  committees  followed 
and  presently,  the  Napoleon  rose  and  said: 

"Our  full  Council  held  its  last  meeting  of 
the  year  on  Wednesday  night,  and  its  members 
have  returned  to  their  homes.  It  is  my  duty 
to  inform  you  that  it  has  decided  once  and  for 


132  THE   MASTER 

all  an  important  question  of  policy.  We  shall 
>cek  to  achieve  our  ends  l>y  making  and  not 
by  breaking  laws.'1 

A  murmur  of  disapproval  be^an  near  UN 
and  spread  through  the  room.  A  resounding 
thump  of  his  gavel,  and  the  speaker  continued 
in  a  voice  of  such  authority  that  order  was  at 
once  restored.  "Silence,  men,  while  you 
hear  my  report.  I  beg  to  remind  you  that  in 
all  matters  you  have  sworn  to  accept  the 
judgment  of  your  Council.  It  is  final,  and 
while  I  have  not  always  agreed  with  it,  there 
has  been  never  a  time  \vhen  I  would  not  sooner 
have  lost  my  head  than  showr  by  the  slightest 
word  or  deed  that  I  had  not  the  fullest  possi 
ble  respect  for  it.  If  we  lose  that  we  have 
lost  all.  Listen,  while  I  inform  you  of  its 
plan.  A  committee  has  been  appointed  for 
every  land  in  which  we  have  a  Link.  This 
committee  will  try  to  get  the  legislation  we 
need.  It  will  seek  to  break  down  the  walls 
of  prejudice  and  bring  rich  and  poor,  noble 
and  peasant,  into  closer  and  more  sympathetic 
relations.  A  fund  of  one  million  dollars  will 
be  distributed  among  these  committees  for 
the  furtherance  of  our  work." 

The  Napoleon  was  interrupted  by  cheers 
and  hisses.  Again  his  masterly  eye  and  voice 


THE   MASTER  133 

awed  the  unsatisfied  in  the  army  of  discontent. 
Well  they  knew  what  thunderbolts  had  fallen 
from  his  hand!  In  half  a  moment  all  were 
looking  up  at  him  in  deep  silence. 

"It  is  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  tell  you," 
he  went  on,  "that  our  work  for  a  fairer  dis 
tribution  of  the  world's  wealth  is  progressing 
beyond  my  hopes.  You  will  agree  with  me 
that  nothing  we  do  or  say  should  interrupt 
it.  I  have  learned  that  many  rich  men  have 
only  to  be  convinced  of  our  honour  and  good 
will  to  join,  heart  and  purse,  in  our  efforts. 
When  I  tell  you  that  five  of  them  have  pledged 
fifty  thousand  each  for  the  support  of  the 
unemployed  and  the  education  of  the  children 
of  the  poor  in  all  countries,  you  will  under 
stand  the  action  of  our  Council.  I  believe 
that  we  may  safely  expect  a  fund  of  ten 
million  dollars.  I  have  been  invited  to  visit 
England,  France,  Austria,  Italy,  and  Germany. 
I  have  had  letters  from  wealthy  and  dis 
tinguished  men  —  statesmen,  bankers,  bishops 
of  the  church,  cabinet  ministers,  and  noblemen 
-  who  wish  to  help  our  cause.  Within  a 
month  I  shall  begin  my  work  among  them. 
The  ear  of  the  world  is  turned  to  us  and  the 
heart  of  the  world  is  ready  for  our  appeal. 
Why  go  to  war  when  peace  will  serve  us  better  ? 


134  THE   MASTER 

I  have  been  miscalled  the  Napoleon  of  Dis 
content.  I  disclaim  the  title.  I  am  no  lover 
of  war.  I  favoured  it  when  it  seemed  to  be  our 
only  recourse.  Let  us  have  peace.  It  is  not 
revenge,  but  justice  that  we  desire.'* 

There  were  more  cheers  than  before,  but 
the  hisses  were  many  and  persistent.  Condon 
calmly  resumed  his  chair  and  beckoned  to 
Lovel  who  went  to  his  side.  All  eyes  were  turned 
upon  them,  and  I  could  hear  only  smothered 
murmurs  of  discontent.  I  studied  the  face 
of  the  masterful  captain.  I  fancied  that  I 
saw  in  it  subtle  suggestions  of  the  greatness 
which  had  filled  and  inspired  his  book.  At 
least  the  strength  and  the  calm  dignity  of 
its  appeal  were  there,  and  what  a  wonderful 
thing  the  book  had  done  for  him  and  the 
brotherhood  of  the  Chain!  I  had  not  until 
then  quite  comprehended  the  power  of  it. 
Those  enlightened  pages  had  irone  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  and  proved  the  sincerity  and 
wisdom  of  the  captain.  They  had  convinced 
all  as  they  had  convinced  me.  They  had 
given  him  the  respect  and  confidence  of  the 
very  men  that  he  most  desired  to  reach. 
They  had  caught  the  ear  of  the  world.  It 
could  not  be  that  tliU  irreat  man  had  had  the 
least  part  in  those  dark  and  cunning  deeds  of 


THE   MASTER  135 

which  Lovel  had  secretly  informed  me.  If 
so,  he  must  have  turned  from  his  sin,  as  Paul 
had  done,  and  received  the  gift  of  prophecy. 

My  reflections  were  stopped  by  Lovel,  who 
had  begun  to  speak.  I  shall  not  try  to  repeat 
his  words,  for  the  splendour  of  his  face  and  a 
power,  not  in  their  sound  or  meaning,  as  I 
think  of  them,  fell  upon  us  and  silenced 
every  murmur.  They  pleaded  for  peace  and 
the  end  of  violence  and  evil  passion;  they 
pictured  the  growing  strength  of  the  Chain, 
with  leaders  in  the  halls  of  legislation  and  the 
councils  of  the  State  and  the  confidence  of  the 
rich  and  powerful.  He  spoke  for  the  rich 
man  whose  lack  of  charity  was  no  greater 
than  that  with  which  he  was  regarded.  He 
was  interrupted  by  hisses  and  sat  down. 

His  speech  had  made  its  point.  I  had  seen 
its  effect  in  the  faces  of  the  men  around  me. 
I  have  thought  sometimes  that  the  radical 
wing  would  have  gone  with  its  wiser  brothers 
but  for  the  malice  of  one  man  — a  tall,  full- 
bearded  Bavarian  peasant,  of  a  bitter  soul 
and  the  gift  of  eloquence  —  one  of  those  soon 
to  win  infamy  and  death  in  the  Hay  market 
riot  in  Chicago.  He  rose  and  began  a  pro 
test  full  of  the  worst  feeling: 

"They   tell  us   that  peace   is   better   than 


130  THE   MASTEU 

revenge,"  he  shouted  with  the  accent  of  a 
German  who  has  not  fully  mastered  his 
English.  'That  we  should  lie  down  with  the 
lion  who  has  rent  our  flesh,  and  put  away  the 
thirst  for  his  Mood  which  came  of  our  fathers. 
I  say  that  our  desire  for  i  \« n^e  is  righteous 
and  God-given.  It  calls  for  blood  and  that 
only  will  erase  our  wrongs.  What  says  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  hi  the  lips  of  his  prophet  Samuel  ? 
These  are  the  words: 

"I  remember  that  which  . \malek  did  to 
Israel  how  he  laid  wait  for  him  in  the 
way  when  he  came  up  from  Egypt. 

"  'Now  go  and  smite  Amalck  and  utterly 
destroy  all  that  they  have  and  spare  them 
not  but  slay  both  man  and  woman,  infant 
and  suckling,  ox  and  sheep,  camel  and 
ass.' 

"And  Saul  destroyed  the  doomed  people 
but  spared  Agag  their  king  and  the  Lord 
repented  that  he  had  given  his  work  to  Saul 
on  account  of  his  softness  and  thr  prophet 
spoke  this  command  to  him :  'Bring  ye  hither 
to  me  Agag  the  king  of  the  Amalekites.' 
And  Agag  came  unto  him  delicately  and  said: 
'Surely  the  bitterness  of  death  is  passed.' 
And  Samuel  hewed  Agag  in  pieces  before  the 
Lord  in  Gilgal.  So  says  the  holy  record." 


THE   MASTER  137 

It  may  seem  strange  to  my  reader,  as  it  did 
to  me,  that  the  Bible  should  have  had  so  much 
authority  with  those  rough  and  bitter  men. 
Murmurs  of  approval  arose  and  grew  and  con 
tinued.  The  speaker  was  interrupted  by 
them  and  paused,  and  presently  went  on. 

"So  said  and  did  the  judge  of  all  the  world. 
Perhaps  we  may  respect  His  teaching,  as  well 
as  that  of  our  gentle  Napoleon/' 

The  crowd  w^ent  with  him  in  a  burst  of 
laughter  and  applause. 

In  a  voice  shrill  and  quivering  with  excite 
ment,  he  asked  why  their  captain,  like  Saul, 
had  dallied  in  the  work  of  his  Master.  In  a 
few  weeks  he  had  become  a  friend  of  the 
rich  and,  possibly,  rich  himself.  Had  Agag 
addressed  him  delicately  and  persuaded  him 
that  the  bitterness  of  death  was  passed  ? 
Since  he  had  begun  "to  suck  the  drugs  of 
opulence"  he  had  acquired  the  mildness  of  a 
dove.  He  suspected  that  the  shoemaker  who 
had  been  preaching  peace,  until  they  were  all 
weary  of  his  folly,  had  at  last  converted  him. 

"I  charge  the  shoemaker  with  being  a  spy 
in  the  pay  of  the  aristocrats/'  the  speaker 
went  on.  "I  have  proof  that  he  is  a  rich  man; 
that  his  shop  and  cobbling  are  only  a  cloak 
for  his  villainy;  that  by  cunning  he  has 


138  THE   MASTER 

learned  of  our  secret  work  and  told  certain  of 
his  friends  about  it.  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
the  proof  of  this  in  my  pocket." 

There  were  loud  cries  and  hisses  on  every 
side,  and  two  or  three  shouted:  "  Down  with 
tin-  shoemaker!" 

"We  have  been  duped  but  we  are  not  yet 
defeated,"  said  the  speaker,  and  was  halted 
by  applause.     As  he  waited  in  silence  I  a 
him  cross  his  heart  with  his  right  forefinger. 
A  whispered  exclamation  came  from  Lovel. 

Condon  had  sat  calmly  reading  a  report. 
He  rose  and  rapped  with  his  gavel,  and  said 
(jiiietly,  as  if  it  were  all  a  matter  of  slight 
importance,  "My  brother  will  please  take 
his  seat  and  come  to  my  office  to-morrow  at 
ten.  There  will  be  no  more  seditious  talk 
in  any  meeting  of  the  Chain.  I  should  like 
to  confer  with  Brothers  Rone,  Mitchell, 
Matlofsky  and  Cantaverro  after  the  meeting 
in  this  room.  The  secretary  will  read  to  all 
a  piece  of  astonishing  news  after  which  a 
motion  to  adjourn  will  be  in  order." 

lie  removed  his  handkerchief  and  held  it 
in  his  left  hand.  Lovel  rose  and  started 
through  the  aisle,  and  I  followed  him.  The 
secretary  began  to  talk  of  the  remarkable 
letter  which  he  was  about  to  read.  I  know 


THE   MASTER  139 

now  that  it  was  done  to  hold  the  crowd  in 
their  seats. 

The  Napoleon  had  prevailed.  Their  hearts 
had  failed  them  when  they  heard  his  voice. 
There  was  no  sound  of  disorder  in  any  part 
of  the  room ;  but  the  seeds  of  trouble  had  been 
scattered  and  could  not  be  recalled.  Many 
scanned  the  face  of  my  friend  with  curious 
interest  as  we  passed  them.  We  hurried  up 
the  stairs  and  down  to  the  outer  door  and  into 
the  cab,  which  awaited  us. 

"To  Kerrigan  Place!"  I  shouted  and 
away  we  went  at  a  gallop.  Neither  spoke 
until  our  carriage  stopped  in  the  ferry  house. 
Then  Lovel  whispered: 

"They  have  marked  me  for  death.  Did 
you  see  him  cross  his  heart  ?" 

"Yes." 

"That  is  the  sign  and  a  dozen  answered  it. 
The  change  came  too  quickly.  Blood  must 
pay  for  our  victory,  and  perhaps  mine  will 
be  enough.  I  hope  it  may  be  so." 

He  leaned  back  on  the  cushions  and  spoke 
calmly  of  his  peril,  and  like  one  who  is  weary 
after  his  work  is  done. 

"Let  us  leave  the  city  and  escape  them," 
I  suggested,  in  no  way  surprised  by  what  he 
had  said  to  me. 


140  THE   MASTER 

"  But  they  are  cunning,  and  in  many  places, 
;ind  will  know  the  way  we  take.  The  fury  of 
a  false  god  i>  in  them.  But  think  of  what  we 
have  done,  dear  Ri< -hard,  and  be  glad  with  me. 
My  master,  Condon,  leads  a  mighty  host.  The 
light  shines  upon  his  way.  The  words  of  his 
mouth  were  more  than  food  to  me.  I  am  a 
little  creature  —  the  least  of  them  all." 

And  the  greatest,  I  was  about  to  say,  but 
held  my  peace,  knowing  him  as  I  did.  The 
thought  of  his  peril  haunted  me. 

"I  do  not  think  they  will  dare  molest  you," 
I  said.  "Condon  will  keep  them  in  hand." 

He  made  no  answer  and  I  added  . 

"It  surprised  me  that  the  man  dared  be  so 
frank  in  the  presence  of  the  captain." 

"The  time  has  come  when  the\  can  pro 
voke  him  and  be  secure,  and  they  know  it," 
said  my  friend. 

"Do  you  think  he  recognized  the  sign?" 

"He  would  not  know  the  sign." 

"We  must  see  and  trll  him  at  once." 

"They  think  me  a  rich  man  and  a  spy," 
said  Lovel.  "It  is  because  they  have  read 
and  failed  to  understand  the  letter  stolen  by 
Rone.  You  will  remember  that  I  warned 
von  of  Rone  —  that  he  worked  in  the  dark: 
and  delighted  in  evil  deeds.  You  moved  and 


THE   MASTER  141 

kept  out  of  his  way  and  purged  yourself  of 
the  war  sign.  So  they  judge  me  a  spy  and 
the  foe  of  my  brothers." 

Little  more  was  said  until  we  got  to  Kerrigan 
Place,  where  I  entered  his  shop  with  the  shoe 
maker  and  'remained  with  him  until  morning. 

At  daylight,  Condon  came  in  a  carriage  and 
bade  us  go  with  him. 

"You  wrill  leave  the  shop  for  a  few  days 
and  live  in  a  house  near  me,"  he  said  to  Lovel. 
"Do  as  I  tell  you  and  stay  in  for  a  week. or 
so.  Sores  have  a  way  of  healing;  with 
proper  treatment  they  will  disappear,  and  you 
may  soon  do  as  you  please." 

"You  would  best  look  out  for  yourself/' 
said  Lovel. 

"Oh,  I  musn't  showT  any  fear!"  he  answered 
in  a  tone  of  indifference.  :£You  know,  I've 
got  to  keep  the  others  afraid." 

I  looked  at  these  two  masterful  men  who  sat 
with  me,  the  one  frail  as  \vax,  the  other  strong 
as  iron;  and  yet  the  wax  [had  bent  the  iron. 

I  rode  with  them  to  Lovel's  lodgings.  The 
Napoleon  asked  where  I  wished  to  go,  and 
drove  me  to  the  place  without  a  word  until  I 
was  getting  out. 

"Keep  away  from  there  until  I  see  you 
again,"  he  said,  as  I  bade  him  good  morning. 


CHAPTER  XI 

TWO  weeks  had  gone  and  Lovel  had 
returned  to  his  shop.  He  had  met 
some  of  the  radicals,  and  Condon  assured  me 
that  the  time  of  peril  had  passed,  (^uile 
another  matter  had  begun  to  worry  my  friend. 
The  young  woman,  for  whose  sake  he  had 
suffered  a  fine  and  a  public  reprimand  and 
some  evil  fame,  was  heaping  trouble  on  him. 
He  had  dreamed  of  leading  her,  and  other-* 
like  her,  into  the  way  of  peace.  But  it  became 
the  way  of  strife  at  its  very  entrance.  No 
decent  home  was  open  to  her  and,  as  I  fore 
saw,  the  churches  could  give  him  little  help. 
He  found  there  phrases  of  good  will  and 
offers  of  money,  but  none  wished  to  touch 
her  hand,  even.  He  searched  vainly,  as  he 
thought,  for  the  spirit  of  his  Great  Master, 
Jesus,  who  was  wont  to  treat  the  women  of 
her  kind  with  peculiar  tenderness.  Minis 
ters  sent  him  to  a  place  set  apart  for  evil 
doers.  He  had  found  one  offer  of  Christian 
fellowship  in  a  post  of  the  Salvation  Army, 
and  had  accepted  the  same.  For  the  first 

III 


THE   MASTER  143 

time  I  had  seen  his  face  clouded  with  indig 
nation. 

"It  burns  me  like  a  fire,"  he  said  in  speak 
ing  of  his  trouble.  "How  may  we  help 
these  little  people,  who  behave  themselves 
proudly  and  worship  the  work  of  their  hands 
and  take  no  thought  of  their  brothers!  I 
know  a  place,  far  from  here,  where  my  Great 
Master  dwells.  I  wish  that  I  might  take  her 
there.  But  I  shall  send  her  back  to  the  sea, 
on  which  she  was  born,  with  her  mother. 
They  shall  have  honest  work  to  do." 

That  was  all  that  he  said  to  me  of  the  whole 
matter.  His  pity  overcame  his  indignation,  for 
every  man  was  his  brother  —  even  the  basest. 

Where  was  the  land  he  knew  in  which  the 
Great  Master  dwelt  ?  The  scene  of  his 
childhood,  perhaps,  for  that  may  have  "a 
charm  from  the  skies,"  although  I  have  never 
felt  the  like  myself.  He  said  not  a  word  to 
enlighten  me  and  long  since  I  had  ceased  to 
question  him  in  relation  to  his  own  history. 

I  was  working  these  days  to  pay  for  my 
illness  and  with  so  much  to  do  that  I  had 
even  denied  myself  the  pleasure  of  a  night 
with  my  friends  at  the  Lanthorne  since  my 
recovery.  I  had  heard  no  more  from  Horton 
regarding  his  will  to  try  me  and  was  losing 


144  THE   MASTER 

hope  of  it,  when  a  note  come  one  day  inviting 
me  to  his  home.  I  was  to  be  there  at  nine 
o'clock  that  evening.  When  I  called,  the 
butler  took  me  to  the  playroom  of  the  million 
aire  above  stairs,  where  he  loved  to  sit  with 
his  intimates.  It  contained  a  billiard  and 
card  table,  and  there  were  easy  chairs  and  a 
sofa  before  an  open  fireplace.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  old  tapestries.  Horton 
was  fond  of  cards,  and  I  had  heard  that  the 
price  of  a  railroad  had  been  known  to  cross 
his  table  in  the  course  of  a  night's  play.  He 
met  me  at  the  door. 

"Hello,  my  boy!"  he  exclaimed  with  a 
hearty  shake  of  my  hand.  *  You've  got  your 
feet  on  the  ground  again — now  keep  'em  there. 
Sit  down  here  and  smoke  a  cigar  with  me." 

I  sat  on  the  sofa,  at  his  side,  before  the  fire. 

"You  think  you'd  like  the  railroad  business 
—  do  you?"  he  asked. 

"I  do,"  was  my  answer. 
'Then,  there's  another  problem  —  is  it 
going  to  like  you?  —  and  the  boss  will  ha\v 
to  answer  that  question.  It's  harder  than 
sawing  wood.  I  want  you  to  begin  at  the 
bottom,  at  ten  dollars  a  week,  and  take  your 
chances  under  a  boss." 

I  think  that  he  was  feeling  to  see  if  I  had  the 


THE   MASTER  145 

right  stuff  in  me,  and  I  was  quick  to  say  that 
hard  work  and  small  pay  would  not  turn  me 
aside.  My  answer  pleased  him. 

"If  you  do  your  part,  I'll  do  mine,"  he 
said,  "and  mine  will  be  to  try  to  make  you 
happy.  Report  at  my  office  Monday  morning, 
at  nine,  and  we'll  take  the  ten  o'clock  train 
for  the  shops.  I'll  keep  my  eye  on  you." 

He  told  me  of  his  early  hardships  and  how 
he  had  won  promotion  and  the  good  will  of 
his  boss. 

Presently,  his  daughter  ran  in  upon  us. 

"Mother  has  asked  me  to  bring  Mr. 
Holm!"  she  exclaimed  merrily.  "I  can't 
let  you  have  him  any  longer." 

"He  is  yours,"  said  her  father,  with  a 
wink  at  me.  "These  women  are  sly  people; 
I  didn't  suppose  that  either  of  them  would 
suspect  you  were  here." 

"We  didn't  suspect  —  we  knew,"  she  said 
with  a  laugh.  "I  knew  and  told  her  and 
learned  that  she  knew.  Don't  imagine  you 
can  fool  us;  we've  a  splendid  secret  service 
here.  You  must  come  down;  you  must 
see  mother,  and  the  scion." 

"The  dear  old  girl!"  said  Mr.  Horton 
with  a  laugh;  "I'll  go  along  and  have  a  look 
at  the  fun." 


146  THE   MASTER 

"She    will    ask    you    to    dinner,"    the    girl 
whispered  as  we  descended  the  great  stair- 
'You  simply  must  say  yes.     Remember  you 
are  as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter." 

Mrs.  Horton  was  one  of  those  whom 
Lovel  had  condemned  in  his  odd,  archaic 
phrases.  She  "behaved  herself  proudly," 
and  had  the  manners  and  jewels  of  a  queen. 
I  heard  her  address  many,  including  myself, 
in  a  tone  of  pity.  Often  her  eye  seemed  to 
say,  "My  poor  little  man!  There,  take  my 
hand --one  has  to  be  generous.  Do  not 
stand  too  long  in  front  of  me." 

Her  manner  bestowed  grace,  mercy  and 
condemnation  as  she  received  her  guests. 
Now  and  then  her  eyes  seemed  to  say:  "Off 
goes  her  head,"  or  "Let  her  live  and  we  will 
see  how  the  poor  wretch  behaves." 

'The  scion"  stood  beside  her  —  a  hand 
some  French  youth  who  was  said  to  be  a 
great-gran (N<>n  of  one  of  the  Bonapartes. 
He  smiled,  and  shook  hands  \\ith  her  guc>K. 
hut  said  nothing.  'When  all  were  pre>en»«d 
a  group  of  young  ladies  gathered  about 
"the  scion." 

"A  story!  tell  us  a  story,"  one  begged, 
and  soon  they  led  him  away. 

Miss  Horton  took  me  back  to  her  mothe-. 


THE   MASTER  147 

"We  want  you  to  dine  with  us  Sunday 
evening,  at  half-past  seven,"  said  the  grande 
dame,  and  her  face  added:  "You  will  not 
care  to  come  and,  of  course,  you  will  say  no." 

But  I  was  not  to  be  turned  aside.  I 
promptly  said  that  I  should  be  glad  to  come. 

Then  she  exclaimed:  "How  good  of  you!" 
and  put  a  sentence  of  death  in  her  cold 
smile. 

Miss  Horton  took  my  arm  and  led  me  into 
the  library. 

"Don't  you  feel  like  sitting  down  by  the 
fire?"  she  asked. 

"No,  thank  you,"  I  answered  gravely. 

"I  want  to  present  you  to  some  of  my 
friends,  and  you  must  know  the  prince. 
He's  a  raiser  of  Pomeranian  poodles."  She 
laughed  and  added:  "It's  inspiring  to  hear 
him  talk  about  poodles." 

We  found  the  Frenchman,  presently,  in 
the  midst  of  a  number  of  young  ladies.  Miss 
Horton  presented  me  to  the  group,  and  I 
took  my  seat  by  the  noble  foreigner.  He 
was  a  young  man  of  about  twenty-three, 
large-boned  and  broad-shouldered,  and  I 
thought  him  a  fine  figure  of  a  man.  To 
my  surprise,  however,  he  addressed  me  in 
a  thin,  treble  voice,  and  delicately  felt  his 


148  THE   MASTER 

hair,  which  was  thick  and  curly  and  so 
long  that  it  swept  the  collar  of  his  coat.  He- 
had  well-cut  features,  pink  cheeks,  and  a 
>kin  as  white  as  a  woman's.  lie  was  clearly 
a  favourite  of  the  young  ladies,  who  listened 
with  delight  to  his  tales  of  court  life  in  the 
capitals  of  Kurope,  and  laughed  at  his  clever 
mimicry  of  an  aged  and  eccentric  queen. 

Miss  Horton  came  presently  and  said  that 
before  I  should  go  her  father  would  like  a 
word  with  me.  I  thought  that  I  must  be 
going,  and  we  returned  to  his  room  together. 

"What  did  you  think  of  the  prince?"  she 
asked. 

"A  beautiful  man!"     I  said. 

"Almost  queenly,"  she  suggested  as  we 
entered  her  father's  door.  "Was  there  ever 
such  an  imitator  of  women?" 

"And  such  a  judge  of  poodles,"  said  the 
millionaire.  "I  venture  to  say  that  his  father 
before  him  was  a  raiser  of  poodles  with 
pedigrees  as  lon^  as  his  own.  It's  wonderful !" 
*  You're  a  disgrace  to  the  family  with 
your  talk,"  said  the  young  lady  as  she  play 
fully  shook  his  shoulder,  and  bade  me  good 
night. 

"Boy,  I  want  to  save  you  from  needless 
embarrassment,"  said  Israel  Horton,  as  he 


THE   MASTER  149 

stood  before  me.  "You  have  now  a  fairly 
good  view  of  the  situation.  Think  it  over. 
If  it  should  seem  too  discouraging,  why,  you 
can  back  out.  I  know  it's  a  good  deal  of 
a  contract,  and  if  you  don't  show  up  on 
Monday  I  shall  not  blame  you  a  bit." 

"I  shall  be  with  you  if  I  am  able  to  walk," 
I  assured  him. 

"Put  love  out  of  your  mind  and  go  to 
work,"  he  said.  "Just  consider  that  the 
marriage  you  spoke  of  is  impossible,  and 
think  only  of  what  you  have  to  do.  It  may 
be  you'll  make  yourself  worthy  of  the  best 
girl  in  the  world,  when  you  find  her." 

He  turned  away,  and  I  left  his  house,  full 
of  doubts  and  fears. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT  LEAST  once  a  day  I  called  at  the  shop 
A\.  of  the  shoemaker.  I  went  in  the 
evening  when  my  work  would  let  me  and 
talked  for  an  hour  or  so  with  my  friend. 
Those  nights,  when  at  home,  he  l>arml  his 
door  and  did  without  lights  and  we  both 
had  a  dread  of  the  dark.  II  is  unreconciled 
brothers  had  neither  raised  a  finger  nor 
shown  a  face,  to  Lovel  or  me.  But  while  my 
friend  had  no  fear  he  seemed  to  have  no 
sense  of  security.  lie  had  asked  me  to  tap 
on  the  window-pane  instead  of  the  door 
when  I  came  after  dark. 

Saturday  had  come  and  we  were  to  while 
away  its  end  at  the  Lanthorne.  That  mor 
ning,  before  I  was  out  of  bed,  a  servant  came 
to  my  door. 

"Please,  sir/'  he  said,  "Mr.  J.  Millerton 
Crabtree  is  waiting  in  the  parlour." 

I  had  almost  forgotten  Mr.  J.  Millerton 
Crabtree  —  the  trance  poet  and  describer 
of  human  wonders  and  curiosities  —  and  of 
my  promise  to  try  to  find  a  publisher  for 

160 


THE   MASTER  151 

his  verse.  I  made  haste  to  greet  him  and 
present  my  excuses.  He  began  with  a  proud 
sneer : 

"I  have  an  imitator  —  a  base  upstart, 
who  is  introducing  curiosities  in  a  rival  house 
with  the  aid  of  poetry."  He  added,  impres 
sively,  as  if  it  were  a  piece  of  impudence 
unequalled  in  a  generation:  "He  has  copied 
my  reversible  poem,  word  for  word." 

I  regarded  him  with  silent  pity. 

"If  I  could  only  find  a  publisher,"  he 
went  on,  "and  reap  the  fame  that  belongs 
to  me  as  a  lecturer  and  a  poet,  it  would,  as 
it  were, 

"Glue  my  fame  to  my  name 
And  stop  my  rival's  cunning  game. 

'You  see  how  natural  it  flows  from  me?  I 
can  sometimes  carry  on  a  whole  conver 
sation  in  poetry,  as  my  daughter  says.  What 
I  want,  sir,  is  to  'glue  my  fame  to  my  name.' ' 

"Glue  it!"  I  said;  "yes,  your  fame  should 
be  bound  and  welded  to  the  name  of  Crab- 
tree,  so  that  the  hand  of  envy  cannot  tear 
it  away.  I  will  do  what  I  can  at  once,  this 
very  day,  even." 

"A  thousand  thanks!"  he  exclaimed  with 
a  stage  bow,  and  added:  "Would  you  have 
the  kindness  and  condescension  to  see  me 


152  THE   MASTER 

to-night?  Could  I  come  here  after  the  last 
performance  of  our  great  congress  of  curi 
osities —  for  two  minutes,  only?" 

I  should  have  to  see  him  that  evening,  if 
at  all,  for  next  day  I  was  going  out  of  town 
and  would  be  leaving  with  Horton  early 
Monday,  so  I  said  to  Mr.  Crabtree  that  I 
would  see  him  at  the  Lanthorne,  at  mid 
night,  and  for  that  assurance  he  gave  me  a 
grand  bow  and  another  "  thousand  thanks," 
and  relieved  me  of  his  presence. 

Our  Sunday  editor  ordered  a  long  sketch 
of  "the  bard"  with  a  full  exhibit  of  his 
poetry,  and  that  evening  I  went  to  the  School 
for  Novelists  with  the  sketch  in  my  pocket. 

Lovel  was  there,  and  every  chair  at  the 
big  table  was  occupied.  The  smooth,  round 
face  of  Colonel  Christmas  shone  with  good 
nature. 

"Kind  sirs,  it  is  a  time  for  reflection," 
said  he  as  he  opened  the  school.  "  \Yr 
have  eaten,  drunk,  and  been  merry,  with 
never  a  thought  of  our  worthy  host  who 
might,  for  all  we  knew,  have  fasted,  famished 
and  grown  sad.  The  noble  arts  of  poetry 
and  romance  have  devoured  his  substance 
until  he  calls  for  relief.  The  time  h:is 
come,  gentlemen,  when  the  look  of  our 


THE   MASTER  153 

money  would  be  more  welcome  to  this  patient 
man  than  the  sound  of  our  eloquence.  Here 
after  we  must  pay  as  we  feast.  It  gives  me 
pleasure  to  inform  you  that  a  friend  of  the 
School  for  Novelists,  whose  name  I  am  not 
at  liberty  to  mention,  has  promised  the  sum 
of  three  hundred  dollars  for  the  liquidation 
of  our  debt.  He  offers  a  prize,  also,  of  five 
hundred  dollars  for  the  best  type  of  character 
which  any  member  of  the  school  may 
imagine,  and  clearly  describe,  in  the  next 
year,  and  I  am  glad  to  announce  that  the 
judge  is  to  be  our  able  and  highly  esteemed 
friend,  Mr.  Ben  Lovel. 

"  In  connection  with  these  noble  gifts,  he  asks 
that  I  make  a  suggestion,  namely,  that  the 
limit  of  wine  for  each  plate,  at  any  dinner, 
be  two  glasses.  You  see  before  you  a  man 
chastened  by  many  follies  and  ready  for 
wiser  conduct." 

Loud  applause  greeted  the  Colonel  as 
he  took  his  seat,  and  Darklight  proposed 
three  cheers  for  the  unknown  friend,  which 
were  promptly  given.  A  motion  followed 
the  cheers  and  was  carried  with  a  noisy 
chorus  of  agreement. 

Somehow  the  suspicion  came  to  me,  and 
more  than  once  I  have  wondered  why,  that 


154  THE   MASTER 

Lovel  was  "the  unknown  friend.0  Was  it 
possible  that  the  charge  I  had  listened  to 
in  the  chamber  of  the  Centre  Link  was  in 
part  true?  Was  Lovel  a  rich  man,  and  had 
he  become  a  cobbler  that  he  mi^ht  know 
the  toil  and  the  lowly  life  of  the  poor? 
Once  before  a  like  query  had  come  to  me, 
but  now  its  tone  was  a  little  more  confident. 

Tales  were  read  by  Pipps  and  Darklight, 
and  the  discussion  carried  us  to  the  stroke  of 
twelve.  Lovel  and  I  left  the  table,  and  were 
emerging  under  the  old  Lanthorne  when  the 
trance  poet  intercepted  us.  I  had  forgotten 
my  promise,  and  suggested  that  I  should  go 
back  into  the  tap-room  and  let  him  read  my 
sketch. 

"It  would  be  better  to  take  him  over  to 
my  shop,"  said  the  shoemaker,  and  thither 
we  proceeded. 

We  climbed  the  stairs  and  entered  the 
small  room,  now  dark  as  a  piM-krt.  Lovel 
led  us  into  the  chamber  where  he  slept. 
Below  we  could  hear  our  host  and  our 
friends  talking  loudly,  as  they  closed  the 
door  of  the  Lanthorne  and  walked  out  of 
Kerrigan  Place.  Lovel  was  feeling  for 
matches,  and  quickly  stopped  and  stood 
motionless. 


THE   MASTER  155 

Then  a  whispered  exclamation  from  my 
friend,  a  quick  stir  in  the  darkness,  and  the 
sound  of  muffled  blows,  and  of  one  falling 
heavily  on  the  floor.  I  sprang  forward 
shouting  for  help.  Suddenly  it  seemed  to 
me  that  a  thunderclap  burst  out  of  my  head 
bones  and  blinded  my  eyes  with  lightning.  I 
opened  them  and  rose  and  looked  about  me. 

Thank  God!  I  was  in  my  bed  at  home 
and  it  wras  only  a  dream;  I  lay  back  and  had 
my  sleep  out,  rose  and  ate  my  breakfast,  and 
was  on  my  way  to  the  shop  of  my  dear  friend, 
and  all  my  past  life  had  begun  to  flash  before 
me  in  swift-moving  scenes  when: 

"He's  stirring  —  put  the  gag  on  him," 
I  heard  a  voice  say,  just  above  a  whisper.  I 
understood,  but  with  the  consciousness  of 
the  stricken  ox,  who  knows  not  how  to  lift 
his  head. 

A  rough  hand  caught  my  throat,  while 
another  forced  my  jaws  apart  with  a  round 
stick  and  stuffed  my  mouth  with  handker 
chiefs.  I  could  not  move  or  make  a  sound. 
My  feet  and  hands  were  paining  me  and, 
suddenly,  I  knew  that  they  were  bound 
together.  I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  light 
with  shadows  moving  in  it.  I  heard  a  roar  like 
that  of  falling  water,  and  my  brain  cleared 


156  THE   MASTER 

and  began  to  serve  me.  They  had  shoved  a 
stick  under  my  knees  and  above  my  arms, 
and  locked  me  in  the  attitude  of  a  man 
sitting  on  the  ground  with  hands  clasped 
over  his  shin-honr<.  My  wrisU  were  aching 
from  the  bind  of  the  rope.  In  this  plight  I 
found  myself  on  the  bedroom  floor  unable  to 
speak  or  make  a  sound,  leaning  head  and 
shoulder  against  the  wall. 

A  lighted  candle  stood  on  the  chair  beside 
me.  Two  men  were  tiptoeing  about  the 
room.  I  could  see  my  friend  lying  on  the 
robes  of  fur  that  covered  his  bed  and  trailed 
on  the  floor.  His  face,  now  red  and  swollen, 
was  turned  toward  me  on  the  pillow.  1 1  is 
shirt  had  been  torn  open  and  a  part  of  his 
breast  was  bare.  His  arms  lay  outstretched 
on  either  side  of  him.  I  tried  to  call  to  him, 
and  suddenly  I  began  to  tremble  and  hot 
tears  wrt  my  face,  for  something  in  the  prone 
body  reminded  me  of  his  "Great  Master/' 
and  the  spirit  of  the  youth  came  out  of 
my  memory  and  passed  before  my  eyes, 
and  now,  at  last,  I  felt  its  loveliness  and 
power,  and  a  sense  of  its  value  to  this 
needy  world  of  ours. 

Soon  I  looked  at  the  strange  men.  They 
wore  masks,  and  one  of  them  was  stuffing  rags 


THE   MASTER  157 

around  the  window-frames.  Suddenly,  they 
dumped  me  into  a  big  sack,  a  coarse,  ill- 
odoured  gunny  sack,  so  large  that  its  end 
came  well  above  my  head. 

44  Out  with  the  light,"  one  whispered,  and 
the  other  obeyed,  and  we  were  in  darkness. 

One  drew  the  sack's  end  over  his  shoulder 
and  carried  me  out  of  the  room.  As  he  did 
so,  I  caught  the  odour  of  gas.  They  had 
killed  my  friend  and  opened  the  gas-cocks  so 
those  who  found  him  would  think  that  he 
had  died  by  his  own  hand. 

My  hope  had  fallen  like  a  tree,  for  I  had 
seen  their  crime,  and  they  would  not  dare 
to  release  me.  I  gave  up  and  felt  sure  that  I 
lay  in  my  shroud. 

Well,  they  bore  me  to  the  stair-top,  closed 
the  door  behind  them,  and  stood  and  listened 
for  a  moment.  Far  away  I  could  hear  the 
whistle  of  some  river-boat,  but  no  other 
sound.  They  carried  me  down  the  stairs 
and  flung  me  into  a  carriage.  We  went 
slowly  out  of  Kerrigan  Place,  and  hurried 
down  the  avenue.  It  was  the  longest  ride 
that  I  ever  took  in  my  life  but,  by  and  by, 
the  carriage  halted  and  they  dragged  me 
out  of  it,  where  I  could  hear  the  wash  of 
the  river.  One  of  them  flung  me  over  his 


158  THE   MASTER 

shoulder  and  began  walking.  He  dropped 
me,  after  a  little,  kicked  me,  and  cursed  my 
weight,  for  it  was  then  near  a  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds.  I  could  hear  a  boat  chafing 
on  timber  and  the  slap  of  waves  on  her  side. 

In  a  second  I  was  being  lowered  in  the  air 
and  felt  the  rub  of  rough  wood  on  the  gunny 
sack.  A  hand  caught  and  swung  me  out 
a  little,  and  down  I  banged  on  the  sloping 
side  of  a  cockpit,  as  I  guessed.  There  I 
lay  and  knew  not  what  was  going  on  about 
me  until  I  was  lifted  and  flung  into  water. 
It  washed  above  my  face,  and  I  felt  myself 
drowning.  But  it  seemed  that  I  could  not 
die.  I  struggled  and  smothered  and  con 
tinued  to  know  and  suffer  a  long,  long 
time,  as  I  thought  then.  I  know  now, 
thai  I  was  being  dragged  by  the  boat's  side 
and  for  not  more  than  three  or  four  minutes. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  voice  saying:  *4  What 
ever  is  this  'ere  in  the  water  by  the  boat's 
side?"  and  recognized  the  voice  of  Rone. 

Then  I  could  feel  them  hauling  me  aboard, 
and  it  was  harshly  done.  They  ripped  the 
i:unny  sack  and  took  the  gag  from  my  mouth, 
and  wrhat  followed  in  the  next  two  or  three 
hours  I  knew  not,  for  my  eyes  and  ears  and 
all  sense  of  feeling  had  ceased  to  serve  me. 


CHAPTER  XHI 

1  AWOKE  in  daylight,  very  stiff  and 
sore,  and  flat  on  my  back.  My  feet 
and  hands  and  mouth  were  free,  thank  God, 
and  where  was  I  —  was  it  a  ship's  bunk  ? 
Yes,  I  could  hear  the  creak  of  timbers  and 
the  wash  of  waves.  I  heard  a  rustle  of 
skirts  and  soft,  retreating  footsteps,  but  saw 
no  one.  I  turned  my  head  a  little  and  it 
seemed  to  have  bulged  on  one  side  almost 
to  the  point  of  my  shoulder.  I  felt  it  over 
with  great  curiosity  and  a  feeling  that  re 
sembled  awe.  As  to  the  pain  it  held,  that 
bulge  on  my  head  was  a  horn  of  plenty.  But 
I  shall  cease  to  speak  of  my  woes,  save  when 
I  must  for  the  sake  of  my  history,  for  I  would 
not  unduly  afflict  the  reader. 

My  clothes  had  been  removed  and  lay  on 
the  floor  near  me.  My  mind  struggled  to 
right  itself,  and  in  a  second  was  on  its  feet, 
as  one  may  say,  and  thinking  well  enough 
for  me,  and  how  swiftly!  They  had  not 
cared  to  drown  me  in  the  river  where  my 
body  might  be  discovered  in  a  day  and  make 

159 


160  THE   MASTER 

trouble.  Rog  Rone  would  take  me  far  out 
and  drop  me,  by  and  by,  so  that  even  the 
keen  Napoleon  would  be  none  the  wiser. 
I  knew  that  Rone  would  assert  that  he  had 
picked  me  up  in  the  river,  but  I  knew,  also, 
or  shrewdly  guessed,  that  my  ducking  \\;i- 
only  a  ruse.  I  tumbled  out  of  the  bunk  and 
felt  my  swollen  wrists  and  ankles.  I  could 
hear  the  familiar  tap  of  Rone's  cane  on  the 
deck  above.  A  great  fear  shook  my  heart 
for  a  second,  but  I  flung  it  off  and  took 
command  of  myself.  My  coat  and  trousers, 
still  damp  with  river-water,  lay  on  a  stool 
near  me.  I  wallowed  into  them  and  dis 
covered,  as  I  did  so,  that  my  money  was  gone. 
I  thought  of  my  friend,  now  gone  to  his  long 
home,  I  had  no  doubt,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
reeling  and  sobbing  like  a  child. 

*What  had  become  of  that  foolish  poet  who 
had  entered  the  darkened  room  with  mt 
Was  he  also  a  link  of  the  interminable  chain 
and  in  league  with  the  radicals  ?  Or  had  he 
run  away,  as  seemed  more  likely,  at  the  first 
sign  of  trouble? 

I  thought  of  Ruth  and  her  father.  They 
would  be  sure  that  I  had  lost  heart  and 
deserted  them,  in  the  manner  of  a  scared 
<  ur,  without  a  word  of  regret.  I  could  se< 


THE   MASTER  161 

the  anger  of  Israel  Horton,  and  the  delight  of 
his  wife,  and  knew  that  Ruth  would  lose  all 
regard  for  me.  Honestly,  these  troubles 
made  me  forget  my  peril.  I  limped  to 
the  companionway,  not  more  than  a  dozen 
paces  from  where  I  stood,  and  climbed  to 
the  deck  very  weak  and  sore.  I  could  hear 
the  voice  of  Rog  Rone  shouting:  "Dod  ram 
yer  pictur',  Bill  Horkins,  none  o'  yer  monkey 
tricks,  now." 

Then  came  the  tap  of  his  cane,  and : 

"Ho  there,  matey!"  his  voice  roared,  and 
I  turned  and  saw  him  approaching  me. 

I  made  no  answer. 

"Wai,  by  the  jomped  up  Moses!"  he  ex 
claimed.  "For  a  man  that  has  had  his 
life  saift  an'  been  give  medicine  an'  took 
care  of  very  gentle  an'  pertic'lar ' 

"And  sandbagged  and  robbed  of  his 
money,"  I  interrupted  him  to  suggest,  in  a 
spirit  of  utter  recklessness. 

"Hold  hard,  my  pippin,"  said  Rog  Rone 
with  a  stern  wink. 

His  face  came  forward  and  I  could  hear 

the  grating  of  his  teeth  as  he  looked  at  me. 

'You  git  on  the  high  ropes  here  an'  you'll 

take    a   walk   up    Ladder    Lane    an'    down 

Hemp  Street,  and  do  it  suddent,  cappy.     I 


THE   MASTER 

ain't  done  nothink  to  you  hut  safe  yer  life, 
so  I  ain't,  an'  what  do  you  do  but  grab  an 
ax  an'  hack  me,  as  ye  might  say,  which 
ain't  no  way  to  treat  a  friend  --  is  it  now?" 

His  heavy  cane  seemed  to  curse  and 
threaten  with  sundry  taps  on  the  deck,  as  he 
addressed  me. 

"What  became  of  my  money?"  I  asked. 

"Look  a  here,  I  don't  know  nothink  at  all 
about  it,"  said  Rog  Rone  impatiently.  "You 
nnisl  'a'  been  out  on  a  gent's  holiday  an' 
been  robbed  an'  flung  in  the  river,  an'  was 
too  mean  t'  sink  --that's  what  'pears  t'  me." 

He  turned  and  left  me  with  such  a  look 
of  injured  innocence  that  I  could  not  help 
laughing. 

Nobody,  save  this  old  pirate  and  two  of 
his  friends,  knew  of  what  had  befallen  me, 
or  that  my  port  was  the  deep  sea  bottom. 
It  was  all  a  modest  and  quite  a  safe  sort  of 
piracy,  and  had  been,  perhaps,  highly  useful 
in  the  old  secret  work  of  the  Chain.  I  could 
see  in  it  the  explanation  of  many  mysteries. 

Some  one  brushed  against  me  and  fell, 
and  a  pail  of  potatoes  scattered  across  the 
deck.  A  girl  --  the  cook's  helper  as  I  learned 
that  day  -  -  knelt  beside  me  and  began  to  pick 
them  up. 


THE   MASTER  163 

"Say,  boss,"  she  whispered,  "don't  make 
no  row  or  you'll  git  a  crack  on  the  head, 
an'  then  Cap'n  Rog  '11  throw  ye  over.  You 
be  careful  an'  do  as  he  says." 

Meanwhile,  she  picked  up  the  potatoes  and 
made  off  with  them,  having  done  me  a  great 
service,  for  then  and  there  I  began  to  use 
my  wits.  In  a  moment  my  plan  was  made. 

I  felt  weak  and  returned  to  my  bunk  and 
lay  undisturbed  in  a  sound  sleep  until  even 
ing.  I  awoke  much  refreshed  and  went  to 
Rone  and  offered  to  help  in  the  ship's  work, 
if  there  was  anything  that  I  could  do.  He 
asked  me  into  the  cabin  and  said  coolly,  as 
we  stood  by  the  table:  "Take  a  chair, 
sonny." 

Then  he  said  that  he  had  found  me  floating 
in  a  sack  off  the  battery. 

"I  opened  my  mouth  an'  bellered  when 
I  seen  it  was  you,  matey  —  hope  t'  die  if  I 
didn't,"  said  the  old  wretch,  as  if  he  really 
thought  that  he  was  fooling  me,  "an'  I 
says  to  myself,  I  says:  *  They've  robbed  an' 
chloryformed  him  an'  give  him  over  to  the 
sharks  —  like  you'd  toss  a  bone  to  a  dog  — 
so  they  have,'  an'  I  drawed  ye  into  my  boat 
an'  saift  yer  life,  an'  that's  the  God's  truth, 
pippin." 


1G4  THE    MASTER 

"Yes,  you  saved  my  life  --  there' s  no 
doubt  of  that  —  and  I  wonder  what  you're 
driving  at." 

I  thought  that  he  saw  my  distrust  in  my 
eyes  then,  for  he  sat  looking  into  my  face  and 
winked  playfully.  Somehow  it  reminded  me 
of  a  cat  playing  with  a  nimi-r. 

"I  wouldn't  wonder  but  what  you  was 
good  leather,  pippin!"  he  exclaimed  as  he 
looked  me  over.  "Now,  like  as  not  you 
could  be  scraped  an'  caulked  an'  tightened, 
mind,  so  as  ye'd  hold  water,  an'  painted  over 
an'  made  a  cook  of  or  —  or  a  sailor." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  sonny,  it  might  be  —  it  just  might 
be,  if  ye  looked  good  an'  tight  an'  seaworthy, 
that  Cap'n  Hog  o'  the  Susq  would  give  ye 
a  job." 

"Suppose  I  give  you  oner"  I  proposed, 
seeing  my  chance  at  la>t. 

"What!"  said  he. 

"Suppose  I  give  you  a  job  that  will  be 
likely  to  put  a  wad  in  every  one  of  your 
pockets,  and  another  to  draw  from  big 
enough  to  fill  a  feather-bed  PM 

"Wai,  what's  yer  ladink?"  he  demanded 
with  a  running  smile. 

I  began   with   that  night  when   the  mute 


THE   MASTER  165 

messenger  came  to  me  in  Liverpool,  and  I 
gave  all  the  known  factors  in  my  old,  hope- 
breaking  mystery.  I  put  my  heart  in  the 
telling,  and  before  I  was  done  with  it  old 
Rog  Rone  was  leaning  forward  on  his  elbows 
and  staring  into  my  face.  I  dwelt  at  some 
length  on  the  fortune,  which,  as  I  had  reason 
to  hope,  was  awaiting  me.  I  omitted  no 
touch  of  colour  that  belonged  to  the  story, 
and  told  it  so  well,  for  one  of  my  practice  in 
such  a  matter,  that  he  smote  the  table  when 
I  had  finished,  and  then: 

"Spank  along!"  he  shouted.  "Blow  yer 
bazoo." 

Now,  at  last,  I  had  him  by  the  ears  - 
nay,  even  by  the  soul,  in  a  manner  of  speaking, 
and  why  not?     This  man  was  for  sale  to  the 
highest   bidder,  and   the   thought   of   hidden 
treasure  appealed  to  him. 

"I  can't  go  on  —  I'm  at  the  end  of  my 
rope,"  I  said.  "If  you  want  any  more  you'll 
have  to  help  me  unravel  the  mystery." 

"If  ye  can  find  him — he'll  give  ye  some 
money,"  said  Rog  Rone,  with  a  wink.  "The 
dear  ol'  man  has  got  the  billyrocks,  an'  I 
wouldn't  wonder." 

The  idea  of  a  waiting  fortune  caught  and 
clung  to  him  like  a  barbed  hook.  He  limped 


166  THE    MASTER 

up  and  down  the  cabin  for  a  moment,  and 
then  flung  an  atlas  on  the  table. 

"The  letter  was  writ  March  the  third," 
said  he,  dropping  into  a  chair.  "The  bearer 
started  that  day.  The  Northland  must  'a' 
left  New  York  on  the  eight*  or  nint'  to 
reach  Liverpool  March  nineteen  —  that's 
sure  as  a  headache  after  a  day  ashore." 

As  I  added  more  details  the  old  captain  sat 
smoking  thoughtfully,  his  stiff  leg  on  a  stool. 
Soon  he  looked  up  at  me  and  said  with  a 
wink: 

!<  Well,  pippin,  I've  got  some  other  bu>inexs 
ahead.  When  that's  done  I'll  ship  with  ye 
an'  divvy  even  if  ye  pay  the  expenses.  Can 
ye  raise  the  wind  fer  a  few  hundred  ?" 

"I'll  try,'*  was  my  answer. 

"Friends  fer  life,  shipmate!'  he  exclaimed 
as  he  begun  groping  in  the  drawer  of  an  old 
table. 

lie  found  a  pair  of  compasses  and  tied  a 
lead  pencil  to  one  leg  of  them.  Then,  having 
spread  his  atlas  on  the  table,  he  fixed  the 
point  of  the  other  leg  on  the  city  of  New  York. 

"Look  a'  here,  matey,"  said  the  captain. 

'Yer  dear  uncle  is  somewhere  from  four  to 

five  hundred  mile  fin   New   York,  nn' 

as  easy  as  t'  count  the  wings  on  a  gull." 


THE   MASTER  167 

I  wondered  why  he  should  think  so,  being 
ignorant  of  his  advantage  in  a  perfect  knowl 
edge  of  the  facts. 

"  There's  a  lot  of  country  from  four  to  five 
hundred  miles  from  New  York,"  I  suggested. 

"C'rect!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  I've  an 
idee  where  to  begin  work,  as  the  lady  said 
when  the  flea  bit  her." 

He  began  to  whistle  an  old  chanty  as  he 
took  the  scale  —  an  inch  for  every  hundred 
miles,  if  I  remember  rightly  —  and  measured 
a  radius  of  four  hundred  miles  from  New 
York  on  the  atlas,  and  swung  the  pencilled 
leg  of  his  compasses  through  an  arc  some 
two  thousand  miles  in  length.  With  a 
radius  of  five  hundred  miles  he  described  a 
new  arc,  and  between  the  two  lay  a  curving 
zone  one  hundred  miles  wide. 

The  captain  ran  his  finger  along  the  arc 
that  swept  through  the  wooded  regions  of 
Canada.  We  began  searching  that  part  of 
our  zone  and  in  a  moment  he  had  found  Lac 
Creche,  which  lay  northwest  of  Quebec. 

"That's  where  we  steer,  cappy,"  said  Hog 
Rone  with  another  wink  at  me. 

"  W7hy  there  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Aint  them  the  letters  ?  an'  aint  I  reckoned 
the  distance  an'  don't  I  know  'bout  where  to 


168  THE   MASTER 

land,  as  the  lady  said  when  she  cuffed  the 
gentlemen  ?  " 

I  doubted  his  conclusion  a  little,  but  had 
no  suspicion  of  it.  I  sat  thinking  of  my  own 
dullness,  for  I  had  spent  a  year  of  fruitless 
effort  with  this  problem  and  held  my  tongue 
for  shame,  and  the  fear  of  losing  all  that  I 
haJ  gained. 

An  oil-stone  lay  on  the  table  and  he  took 
out  his  dirk  and  began  to  whet  it.  His 
head  swayed  as  the  dirk  flew  back  and  forth, 
over  the  whetstone.  Soon  lie  began  to  sing 
in  a  doleful  tone: 

Come  mates,  I'll  tell  ye  where  an'  \\lu-n 
I  -<-»-n  tin-  l»lood  of  a  hundred  men, 
An'  left  my  blade  in  the  .skipi>er'«  neek 
To  dodge  his  ghost  on  a  slippery  deck. 

Chorus 

An'  I  hearn  the  wiminen  squeal, 
An*  the  Devil  had  hold  o'  the  wheel. 
Hi-  >ailed   IUT  \\ell 
An'  our  port  wa^  Hell 

Way  down  in  the  straits  o'  Hemp,  my  lada, 
Jn  the  red-hot  straits  o'  Hemp. 

Soon  he  rose  and  bade  me  stay  there,  while 
he  went  out  for  a  look  at  the  men.  In  a 
moment  I  heard  him  say  in  a  loud,  com 
plaining  voice,  as  he  limped  away: 

"Dod  ram  yer  pictur',  Bill  Horkins!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

NEXT  morning  the  Cap'n  bade  me  go 
ask  the  cook  what  I  could  do  for  her. 
Ours  was  a  "lady  cook,"  one  Mrs.  Larriper, 
a  robust  Irish  \voman  of  a  stern  nature  and 
some  two  hundred  pounds  of  bone  and 
muscle.  It  was  her  first  cruise  on  the  Susq, 
and  she  set  me  scrubbing  the  fo'c'sle  and 
cabins,  v:hich  resembled  a  pigsty  in  look  and 
odour. 

"It's  the  dirtiest  old  tub  that  ever  ploughed 
water,"  she  said  to  me.  "I  took  the  place 
to  give  a  bit  o'  fresh  air  to  the  gal  as  needed 
it  —  the  way  I'd  do  ag'in  if  there  was  nothin' 
else  t'  do  in  the  worruld.  But  we  didn't 
know  the  looks  o'  the  ship  or  the  crew,  an' 
come  aboard  in  the  night,  an'  whin  we 
wanted  to  go  back  didn't  the  ol'  divvle  tell 
us  we'd  have  t'  swim?" 

Her  daughter  was  a  blue-eyed,  slender 
maiden  of  the  name  of  Wave  —  light-footed 
as  a  deer.  Her  feet  always  ran  and  her 
brown  curls  flying  in  the  breeze  put  me  in 
mind  of  sea  spray.  She  was  like  the  restless 


170  THE   MASTER 

waves  in  the  midst  of  which,  as  her  mother 
told  me,  the  girl  had  first  seen  the  light  and 
grown  to  maidenhood.  It  was  she  who  had 
warned  me  when  I  first  stood  on  the  deck 
of  this  dirty  old  tub  of  wickedness. 

The  Susq  had  a  vile-looking  crew '--a 
lot  of  half-dressed,  cursing  roustabouts, 
willing  to  serve  any  master  for  any  pay, 
if  the  grog  were  ample,  and  in  that  matter 
Rog  Rone  was  generous.  He  gave  to  the 
men  almost  as  freely  as  he  gave  to  himself, 
and  for  a  number  of  days  there  were  loud 
words  and  fighting  in  the  foVsle  and  on  the 
deck  even.  Often  I  have  seen  him  wave 
his  cane  over  the  head  of  the  first  mate,  and 
hoard  his  familiar  shout:  "Dod  ram  yer 
pirtur',  Bill  Horkins,"  coupled  with  threats 
and  curses.  Horkins  would  dod^e  the  cane 
and  make  no  answer,  or,  at  least,  none  that 
I  ever  heard. 

It  was  Mrs.  Larriper  who  pulled  things  up 
with  a  turn.  Cap'n  Rog  had  run  up  behind 
Horkins,  and  struck  him  down  with  the 
heavy  cane  he  carried.  The  mate  lay  stunned 
and  helpless,  and  what  more  the  Cap'n 
would  have  done,  I  shall  never  know, .  for 
before  he  could  strike  airaiiu  Mrs.  Larriper 
had  him  by  the  hair  of  his  head  and  gave 


THE   MASTER  171 

him  a  whirl  that  brought  him  down  hard  on 
the  boards.  She  seized  his  cane  and  shook  her 
fist  in  his  face,  and  summed  up  his  character 
with  a  phrase  quite  as  apt  as  it  was  vulgar. 

"Clear  out  o'  me  sight  —  or  I'll  throw 
ye  over  the  ship's  side  —  ye  drunken  slob, 
ye!"  she  shouted  as  she  swung  her  big  arms 
that  were  able,  as  he  knew,  to  make  good 
her  promise. 

"An'  I  an'  every  man  on  the  ship  '11  stan' 
by  ye,  an'  he  knows  it,  too,"  said  the  mate 
as  he  rose. 

She  gave  him  a  look  that  made  him  take 
a  step  backward. 

"Every  man!"    she   shouted.     "As   if    by 

G as  if  they  was  a  man  in  the  whole  pack 

o'  yez.  Get  out  o'  me  sight,  ye  sore-eyed 
villain!" 

The  mate  slunk  away  as  Hog  Rone  rose 
to  his  feet. 

"Here,  take  yer  little  pipe  cleaner,"   she 
said  to  him  as  she  put  the  cane  in  his  hand. 
"If  ye  ever  raise  it  to  me  I'll  break  it  over 
yer  head,  man,  an'  I'll  double  ye  up  Eke  a 
jack-knife    an'    put    ye    into    me    pocket  — 
jisht!     If  ye  don't  run  the  ship  I  will,  an' 
there'll    be    no    more    grog    this    cruise  — 
remember  that  now." 


172  THE   MASTER 

"All  right,  lady!"  he  answered  as  he  looked 
at  me  and  winked  and  beckoned  with  his 
head.  I  followed  him  into  his  cabin. 

"Now  did  ye  ever  see  the  likes  o'  this  'ere 
lady-bird?"  he  asked  confidentially.  "I 
never  could  fight  a  lady,  no  way.  She's  a 
navy  ship  full-rigged  an'  reg'lar,  an'  well 
braced  an'  all  timbers  sound,  with  guns  at 
her  ports  an'  her  hold  full  o'  powder,  an' 
stan's  up  very  proud  an'  graceful,  I  say/' 

"And  it  takes  a  good  man  to  command 
her,"  I  suggested. 

"The  queen  o'  women!"  he  exclaimed 
with  a  playful  wink.  "Wonderful  tidy  an' 
knows  her  business.  Her  pa  was  a  sailor  an' 
she  was  born  at  sea  an'  so  was  her  gal." 

There  was  little  grog  drinking  after  that, 
and  the  Cap'n  treated  the  "lady  rook" 
with  a  gentleness  and  gallantry  of  which  I 
would  not  have  thought  him  capable,  and 
did  everything  in  his  power  to  make  her 
task  easy. 

He  had  been  well  within  the  truth  when  he 
called  her  a  tidy  woman.  She  had  got  the 
ship  dean  and  was  keeping  it  so.  The  men 
had  grown  careful,  since  one  of  them  had 
been  slapped  by  her  for  a  case  of  expectora 
tion  at  once  copious  and  indiscreet.  They 


THE   MASTER  173 

picked  up  their  litter,  and  spat  over  the  side, 
and  obeyed  her  orders.  It  paid  them,  for 
she  was  in  command  of  the  Cap'n,  presently, 
and  could  do  about  as  she  pleased,  and  that 
was  very  well,  as  we  all  agreed.  She  made 
the  most  of  the  ship's  stores  and  better 
cooking  I  have  rarely  known  at  sea,  and  she 
loved  to  hear  us  say  that  we  liked  it,  and 
would  sit  half  the  night  mending  a  man's 
trousers. 

Well,  under  command  of  the  super- 
cap'n,  as  I  called  the  cook,  the  old  Susq 
and  all  aboard  her  began  to  mend.  Cap'n 
Rog  himself  -  -  wretched  old  hypocrite  that 
he  was  —  grew  amiable  and  talked  of  sacred 
themes.  He  often  read  from  an  old,  greasy 
Bible,  in  the  evening,  and  made  comments 
on  the  subject  in  hand  which  were  droll  and 
copious  and  almost  genial.  More  than  once, 
I  asked  myself,  why  he,  of  all  men,  should 
have  found  amusement  in  piety,  and  my 
conclusion  was  that  he  wished  to  improve  his 
standing  with  the  "lady  cook."  He  would 
sometimes  send  for  her  in  the  evening  after 
her  work  wras  finished,  and  when  she  appeared 
at  the  door  of  his  cabin,  he  would  say: 

"  Welcome  —  welcome,    Mrs.    Larriper  — 
come    right    in.     We're    about    t'    read    the 


171  THE   MASTER 

scriptur's,  Mrs.  Larriper,  which  as  I  often 
say,  don't  do  no  hurt  if  it  don't  do  no  good." 

She  would  sit  down  with  a  look  on  her 
face  that  seemed  to  say:  '"\Yell,  go  on.  I'm 
not  surprised  at  anything  you  do." 

The  Cap'n  would  take  a  chair  and  rest 
his  stiff  leg  in  another,  and  adjust  his  spec 
tacles  and  begin  with  a  query. 

**Wio  tol'  the  first  lie,  Mrs.  Larriper?" 
he  asked  one  evening  as  he  began  the  lesson, 
with  a  squint  on  one  side  of  his  face  by  way 
of  restraining  the  energy  of  his  thought. 

"I  think  it  would  be  the  first  man  that 
ever  opened  his  mouth  --  jisht!"  she  answered 
with  a  look  of  impatience. 

"A  snake,  Mrs.  Larriper,"  Cap'n  Rog 
declared.  "'The  woman  said  the  serpent 
beguiled  me  an*  I  did  eat,"  he  read  and 
added:  "A  snake  tol'  the  first  lie  an'  the 
trouble  started.  He  learnt  us  how  --so  he 
did.  After  that,  Adam  an'  Eve  saw  their 
nakedness  an'  was  'shamed,  Mrs.  Larriper, 
u  they  orter  been.  If  it  hadn't  been  fer 
this  'ere  lie  there  wouldn't  none  o'  us  be 
obleeged  t'  die,  an'  God's  word  fer  it.  Eve 
orter  minded  her  business.  The  Lord 
warned  her  fair  an'  plain;  she  goes  an' 
shins  right  up  the  tree  as  soon  as  He  was 


THE   MASTER  175 

out  o'  sight,  an'  made  a  grab  fer  the  first 
apple  in  reach  an'  bit  right  into  it.  That's 
like  a  woman." 

He  laughed  and  shook  his  head  as  if 
convinced  that  she  had  made  a  bad  mess 
of  it,  but  not  to  his  surprise,  however. 

"Some  say  it  was  an  orange  that  Eve 
bit,"  Cap'n  Rog  went  on,  "but  I  don't  b'lieve 
it.  Apples  is  more  apt  to  make  trouble. 
Take  the  juice  out  of  'em  an'  by  'n'  by  the 
devil  is  in  it." 

He  passed  to  the  crime  of  Cain,  and  said 
when  he  had  finished  the  chapter:  "They 
fit  'cause  they  hadn't  much  work  t'  do  —  an' 
that's  very  likely,  Mrs.  Larriper.  Men  has 
t'  have  suthink  t'  hammer  on.  Them  days 
they  didn't  have  no  nails  ner  drums,  ner 
anvils,  so  they  hammered  each  other.  If 
men  have  nothink  else  t'  do  they'll  make 
black  eyes  an'  swellinks  -  -  I  dare  presume 
t'  say.  It's  like  a  man,  Mrs.  Larriper. 
Had  t'  whack  an'  hammer.  Couldn't  set 
around  an'  take  it  easy  an'  behave 
theirselves." 

Again  he  shook  his  head  and  let  out  a  wise 
and  sorrowful  laugh. 

The  Cap'n  read  how  when  men  had  multi 
plied  and  daughters  were  born  to  them,  they 


17G  THE   MASTER 

saw  that  women  were  fair,  and  that  it  was  not 
good  for  man  to  live  alone.  Cap'n  Rog 
paused  and  looked  very  wise  and  said: 

44  Now  this  'ere  is  an  idee  an*  no  mistake, 
Mrs.  Larriper.  It's  the  first  sign  o'  good 
sense  that  ever  came  out  on  a  man.  He's 
got  to  have  some  one  to  l>r  'larhrd  to  er 
he'll  go  adrift,  an'  what  happens?  He  moves 
hellwards  —  he  does  —  devil  at  the  helm 
an'  a  fair  wind.  Man  that  cooks  his  own 
grub  '11  swear  when  he  eats  it,  an'  a  man 
that  mends  his  own  britches  '11  tear  holes 
in  his  character,  an'  a  man  that  darns  his  own 
socks  '11  damn  'em  from  top  to  toe,  an'  that's 
true  as  the  good  book,  Mrs.  Larriper.  Fact 
is,  men  wa'n't  made  fer  that  kind  o'  business. 
Try  t'  make  a  bear  saw  wood  an'  what 
happens,  Mrs.  Larriper?  Ye'll  spoil  the 
bear  if  ye  try  hard  'nough,  I  dare  presume 
t'  say.  Men  an'  women  was  made  t'  pair 
up,  Mrs.  Larriper  —  an'  that's  as  plain  as 
the  nose  on  yer  fare." 

He  wiped  his  large  nose  with  his  hand 
kerchief,  and  looked  earnestly  at  the  4<lady 
cook." 

"It  is,"  she  answered  quickly,  4<an'  what's 
more,  I'd  say  it  was  plain  as  the  nose  on 
your  face  --  jisht!" 


THE   MASTER  177 

Cap'n  Rog  shook  with  laughter  and  smote 
the  table  by  way  of  applause,  and  looked 
at  me  to  observe  my  thought  of  her  answer. 

"Now,  think  o'  these  'ere  sailors,  Mrs. 
Larriper,"  he  went  on.  "We  all  fight  an' 
swaller  grog  an'  raise  the  devil.  Whatever 's 
the  reason,  I'd  like  t'  know?  They've  lived 
without  ladies'  comp'ny,  an'  there's  the 
trouble,  Mrs.  Larriper.  No  gals  hold  o' 
the  tow-line,  as  ye  might  say.  No  purty 
thoughts  an'  gentle  feelinks  —  nobody  t'  cuff 
their  ears  an'  pull  their  hair  an'  jaw  'em,  an' 
keep  'em  tidy.  Men  like  that  from  anybody 
that  loves  'em  —  so  they  do." 

"Men  are  like  p'taties  -  -  jisht ! "  said  Mrs. 
Larriper.  "They're  better  when  ye  take 
the  skins  off  'em." 

Again  the  Cap'n  laughed  and  smote  the 
table. 

If  he  ventured  any  franker  compliment 
on  these  occasions  she  would  rise  with 
impatient  looks  and  hurry  out  of  the  cabin. 

So  my  bitterness  found  some  faint  relief  in 
this  odd  bit  of  comedy,  and  slowly  my  dread  of 
the  future  wore  away.  "Cap'n  Larriper" 
-  to  use  a  title  which  Rone  himself  con 
ferred  —  had  the  ship  well  in  hand.  She 
was  my  friend,  too,  and  many  a  whispered 


178  THE   MASTER 

conference  in  the  galley  when  I  went  down 
to  help  her.  furthered  our  acquaintance. 

"He's  got  a  streak  o'  mush  in  him  —  the 
oF  ninnyhammer!"  she  said  to  me.  *  Ye 
ean  turn  his  head  with  the  shake  of  a 
petticoat." 

She  was  right.  Cap'n  Larriper  had  found 
the  tendon  of  Achilles,  and  was  very  wise 
in  the  use  of  her  ad\  ,  and  for  a  time, 

at  least,  we  knew  how  to  manage  him. 

I  learned  soon  that  we  were  on  our  way 
to  Quebec  with  a  load  of  <<>al.  \Ve  ran 
into  rough  weather  after  the  fourth  day 
and  adverse  winds  drove  us  far  out,  so  that 
we  found  ourselves,  one  evening,  a  week 
later,  somewhere  about  half-way  from  St. 
John  to  Liverpool. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  Susq  had  been  built  for  the  cotton 
trade  and  had  on  her  deck-house 
a  large  copper  tank  which  had  been  kept 
full  of  water  for  use  in  case  of  fire.  With 
the  aid  of  this  tank,  the  Cap'n  explained  to 
me,  one  could  carry  a  stream  of  water  into 
any  part  of  her  hold.  I  had  found  the  old 
pump  and  hose  and  pipes,  and  made  a 
boiler,  and  connected  it  with  the  galley 
stove  and,  to  the  delight  of  Mrs.  Larriper, 
was  soon  able  to  fill  the  abandoned  tank 
with  hot  water  for  cleaning. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  I  had  had 
some  training  in  the  tinker's  art,  and  it 
lifted  me  into  high  repute  on  the  Susque- 
hanna.  There  was  no  peace  aboard  unless 
the  decks  were  clean  as  a  rolling-pin,  and 
my  way  was  far  easier  and  more  effective 
than  bailing  from  the  sea.  Even  the  Cap'n 
and  the  crew  had  begun  to  brighten  up  a 
little.  They  were  neater  in  face,  hands  and 
dress  since  the  super-cap'n  had  come  to 
her  rightful  place.  I  sometimes  think  that 

179 


180  THE   MASTER 

their  souls  were  a  bit  cleaner  in  this  new 
environment.  There  were,  indeed,  some 
>it^ns  of  a  better  nature  in  every  man  of 
them. 

44 It's  awful!"  said  Horkins,  in  a  con 
fidential  talk  with  ine.  "Ye  have  to  speak 
proper  an'  think  twict,  an*  git  up  an'  travel 
afore  ye  can  let  the  spit  out  o'  yer  face.  It's 
hard  on  them  as  chaws  terbaccer,  I  say; 
an'  think  on  it,  if  ye  swear  above  a  whisper 
like  as  not  ye  get  half-rations  an'  a  crack 
on  the  ear.  I  got  one  t'other  day  an'  it 
feels  as  if  it  was  wilted.  Ye  can't  fight 
her.  She'd  lick  any  six  men  that  ever 
walked  an'  then,  ye  see,  she's  a  lady.  It's 
awful,  sir,  she's  got  us  all  in  her  pocket. 
I  didn't  hire  out  to  work  in  no  parlour,  mind 
ye.  Not  one  on  us  has  had  a  drop  o'  ^ 
in  two  weeks,  an'  we  was  promised  it  every 
day  when  we  shipped  with  him --we  was 

-the  rotten  old  molly  chaser!  He's  gone 
an'  fell  in  love  with  the  cook  -  that's  what 
I  done-  and  she  leads  him  like  as  if 
she  had  a  string  on  his  neck.  She'll  throw 
him  over  one  o'  these  days  -  -  you  see.  It 
was  very  funny  when  he  fetched  you  aboard 

-  so  I  thought,   an'   so  I  says  t'   them   as 
didn't    see    it.     He'd    been    out    alone    in    a 


THE   MASTER  181 

boat  an',  by  an'  by,  he  comes  up  alongside 
an'  sings  out.  I  went  down  the  ladder  an' 
we  two  fetched  ye  up.  Ton  my  word, 
man,  I  thought  ye  was  dead. 

"'Here's  a  man  I've  picked  up  in  the 
river,  an'  I  think  he's  a  friend  o'  mine,' 
says  he. 

"'The  man  is  drownded,'  says  I. 

"'Lay  him  in  a  bunk  an'  I  guess  he'll 
come  to,'  says  he. 

"Then  up  anchors  an'  away.  Now  that 
didn't  look  right  t'  me,  an'  I  says  to  one  o' 
the  men  — '  Why  didn't  he  put  him  ashore  ?' 
I  says. 

"All  that  night  the  lady  an'  her  gal  sot 
there  a-rubbin'  an'  a  warmin'  of  ye  with 
hot  rags.  She  got  leary  o'  the  oP  fox,  so  it 
looked  t'  me.  I  seen  him  go  mussin'  'round 
the  bunk,  an'  she  give  him  a  shove  an'  sent 
him  half  acrost  the  cabin.  Guess  they  had 
an  idee  that  things  wa'n't  just  as  they  orter 
be  on  this  ship,  an'  they  kep'  an  eye  on 
ye  —  I'll  give  'em  credit  for  that." 

So  the  blank  in  my  memory  had  been 
filled  and  my  heart  as  well  with  a  keener 
appreciation  of  the  "lady  cook,"  and  her 
daughter.  They  had  the  woman's  heart  in 
them,  after  all,  the  heart  that  melts  with 


THE    MASTER 

pity  and  impels  the  hand  to  bestow  Cod's 
mercy  and  tenderness.  But  for  their  kind 
ness  what  would  have  been  my  fate?  A 
baby  could  have  smothered  me  in  a  moment 
when  I  lay  helpless  between  life  and  death. 
Then  the  ship's  burial  and  losses  which  I 
try  in  vain  to  measure,  as  I  think  of  them. 
Moral  decency  had  walked  aboard  thai 
ship  in  woman's  clothes,  and,  armed  with  a 
sufficient  and  peculiar  power,  had  prevailed. 
Crime  and  all  uncleanness  had  hidden  their 
heads,  for  a  time  at  least. 

I  found  Mrs.  Larriper  in  the  galley,  and  said  : 

44 1  have  learned  of  all  that  you  did  for 
me,  that  night,  and  I  want  to  thank  you. 
It  has  put  me  under  an  obligation  that  I 
can  never  discharge." 

44  Who  put  that  in  yer  noddle?"  she  asked, 
with  a  look  of  annoyance. 

"The  first  mate." 

"Thafe  o'  the  world!"  she  exclaimed. 
4  The  pot  an'  the  kittle  have  got  in  a  scrap. 
Sure  it  was  the  gal  who  seen  'em  bring  ye 
aboard,  an'  I  found  her  a  sit  tin'  there  by 
yer  bunk  with  a  lantern  a-ruhbiif  yer  forward 
like  I've  seen  her  do  to  her  father,  when 
he'd  be  sick  at  sea,  as  he  was  many  a  time. 
She  took  care  o'  ye,  man,  an'  all  I  done  was 


THE   MASTER  183 

t*    kape    the    ol'    hawk    away--jisht!     She 
wouldn't  give  up  that  ye  was  dead." 

Mrs.  Larriper  bustled  about  the  galley  as 
she  spoke,  and  I  stood  as  dumb  as  a  wooden 
Indian,  with  a  lump  in  my  throat. 

"We're  all  bate  an'  broke  an'  dummy- 
fuddled  since  the  loss  o'  me  man,"  said  the 
super-cap'n.  >(  We've  lived  ashore  an'  the 
gal  was  like  a  bird  in  a  cage,  an'  I  couldn't 
kape  the  brats  away  f'm  her.  I  can  take  the 
skin  off  a  pirate  an'  hang  it  up  on  a  line  - 
I'm  used  to  the  likes  of  'em --but  a  gal 
that  holds  yer  heart  in  her  hand  —  like  as 
if  it  was  a  little  bird  —  gits  the  best  o'  me 
—  an'  man,  man,  I'm  at  her  mercy!" 

Mrs.  Larriper's  voice  broke  and  she 
paused  to  wipe  her  eyes  writh  her  apron. 

"But  if  I  do  say  it,"  she  went  on,  "the 
gal  has  a  good  heart  in  her,  an'  I'm  thinkin' 
she'll  be  better  off  at  sea,  though  God 
knows,  I  want  a  dacent  ship  an'  no  pirates  t* 
worry  me  life  away." 

A  little  sympathy  and  a  few  kind  wrords 
have  a  great  power  in  them.  After  that 
talk  \vith  her  she  washed  the  blankets  in 
my  bunk  and  scoured  its  wood-work  and 
surprised  me  with  special  recognition  in 
her  cooking. 


184  THE    MASTER 

Things  went  very  well  with  us  until,  one 
day,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  fog  and  no  hand 
at  the  bellows,  and  the  crew  drunk,  and 
little  being  done,  save  in  the  fo'c's'le,  and 
there  they  were  making  history.  One  man 
had  been  stabbed  and  pursued  to  the  galley 
door,  at  the  bc^iiiiiiii«r  ()f  the  second  dog- 
\\ateh.  The  super-cap'n  had  taken  charge 
of  him  ami  hound  up  lii>  wounds  and  laid 
him  out  on  the  floor.  The  other  men  were 
now  in  the  fo'c's'le,  cursing  and  shouting 
loud  threats  aimed  at  the  ears  of  Rone.  I 
went  to  the  Cap'n's  door  and  opened  it. 
He  sat  smoking,  with  a  sword  and  two  pistols 
on  the  table  at  his  side. 

""Where's  Bill  Horkin^  -  dod  rani  his 
pictur'  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Drunk  in  the  fo'c's'le,"  I  said. 

"Fetch  him  here  to  me." 

"Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  think  he  would  be 
more  likely  to  obey  you,"  I  answered. 

"Fetch  Cap'n  Larriper,"  he  commanded 
rather  nervously. 

I  ran  to  the  galley  for  my  good  friend. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Larriper,"  he  said 
as  the  "lady  cook"  appeared  at  his  door. 

"I'm  not  glad  t'  see  you  then  — ye  oP  sea 
rat!  What  did  ye  go  give  'em  the  grog  for?" 


THE   MASTER  185 

" 1  didn't,"  said  Rog  Rone.  "They  bu'st 
into  my  stores  —  so  they  did  —  an'  stole 
a  cask  o'  gin  —  my  very  best  gin  —  Mrs. 
Larriper." 

"Come  with  me  an'  him  into  the  fo'c's'le 
an'  we'll  make  'em  give  it  up,"  the  super- 
cap'n  suggested. 

"It  would  be  onsaift,  Mrs.  Larriper,  very 
onsaift,"  the  Cap'n  whispered.  "Them 
men  means  harm  —  they  do  —  they'll  chop 
our  heads  off  or  throw  us  over  the  side,  like 
as  not,  Mrs.  Larriper,  if  we  don't  look  out 
for  'em." 

The  super-cap'n  laughed.  "I'll  have  to 
look  out,  indade  I  will,"  said  she.  "By 
the  powers !  —  they  might  throw  our  heads 
in  the  same  basket!  Come,  manny,  you  go 
hide  under  yer  bunk  like  a  nice  little  boy  an' 
we'll  protict  ye." 

Mrs.  Larriper  and  I  started  for  the 
fo'c's'le. 

"Coward!"  she  exclaimed  as  soon  as  we 
were  out  on  the  deck.  "He's  a  great  fighter 
whin  he's  ten  to  one,  or  his  enemy  is  back 
to  him  or  has  his  hands  tied.  Then  it's 
a  caution  how  he  can  swing  the  sword!" 

The  men  looked  surprised  as  we  boldly 
invaded  their  quarters.  Their  loud  talk  and 


186  THE    MASTER 

a  ribald  song  ceased  abruptly.  The  fo'c's'le 
had  resumed  its  old  aspect  of  the  cattle- 
pen.  The  men,  bleary-eyed,  were  sprawling 
on  their  bunks.  They  looked  at  me,  sullen  1\ , 
and  not  a  word  was  said  until  Cap'n  Larriper 
put  her  hand  on  the  cask  and  said  very 
calmly  : 

"Boys,  I've  tried  to  tratr  yez  right,  an* 
if  yez  'ave  no  respec'  for  the  Cap'n  yez'll 
have  a  little  fer  me  an'  the  gal.  I  want  yc/ 
should  roll  this  out  on  the  deck  an'  throw 
it  overboard  - -jisht!  Come,  now  -me 
hearties!" 

The  first  mate  rose  with  an  oath  and  got 
astride  the  cask  and  said: 

"We  all  love  ye,  Cap'n,  but  we'll  take  no 
orders  f'm  you  —  not  none  at  all.  The  ol' 
liar  promised  easy  times  an'  six  rounds  o' 
grog  a  day  for  ev'ry  man,  an'  if  he  won't 
give  it,  we're  goin'  to  help  ourselves,  an' 
we're  all  of  a  mind  here.  You  an'  yer  friend 
an'  yer  gal  go  into  the  galley  an'  shut  the 
door,  an*  stay  there,  an*  ye'll  be  let  alone. 
Mind  what  I  say,  now." 

"An'  did  yez  never  hear  o'  the  stra;ts  o' 
Hemp?"  Cap'n  Larriper  asked  calmly. 
"Sure,  man,  yez  are  on  yer  way  there,  an' 
if  yez  are  lookin'  fer  trouble  yez'll  find  a 


THE   MASTER  187 

plenty  right  here  on  the  ol'  ship.  Yez'll 
take  yer  orders  fm  me,  boys,  an'  mind  yez 
do  what  I  tell  yez.  Go  t'  bed  quiet  now  an' 
be  ready  fer  work  at  the  mornin'  watch,  an' 
yer  grub  '11  be  waitin'  an'  every  man  '11  be 
used  right.  I  don't  care  the  snap  o'  me 
finger  for  that  ol'  brat  in  the  cabin,  but 
mind  yez  now,  kape  hold  o'  yerselves.  It's 
mutiny  yez  are  up  to  an'  that'll  not  be 
tolerayted." 

She  motioned  me  on  ahead  of  her  and  we 
made  our  way  to  the  deck.  Her  face  had 
been  white  with  anger,  but  she  had  wisely 
kept  herself  well  in  hand.  The  fog  had 
lifted  and  the  sun  was  down  to  sea  level. 
Cap'n  Rog  stood  looking  out  of  his  cabin 
door  with  a  revolver  in  each  hand. 

"What  did  they  say,  Mrs.  Larriper?" 
he  whispered  as  we  approached  him. 

"Sure,  they're  goin'  t'  tie  yer  hands  an' 
feet  an'  haul  ye  up  be  the  neck  to  the  mast 
head —  jisht,"  she  answered  with  a  show  of 
impatience. 

I  found  a  moment's  joy  in  the  craven  look 
of  the  old  sea-dog. 

"We'd  better  shut  ourselves  up  in  this 
cabin  an'  fight,  as  long  as  we're  able,  Mrs. 
Larriper,"  he  suggested.  "They'll  change 


188  THE   MASTER 

their  minds,  an'  I  wouldn't  wonder.  What's 
yer  idee?" 

' *  I'll  go  bring  'em  up,  wan  by  wan,  an' 
turn  their  backs  an'  then  ye  can  run  up 
an'  cut  off  their  heads.  Ye'd  like  that 
now -- wouldn't  ye?"  said  Mrs.  Larriper 
with  a  playful  contempt. 

'You  will  have  your  joke,  Mrs.  Larriper, 
which  it  ain't  no  time  for,  as  I  have  often 
said  -  when  there's  trouble  at  sea,  an'  that's 
as  true  as  the  blessed  Bible,  so  it  is,"  said 
Rog  Rone. 

"Will  ye  fight,  man?"  asked  the 
super-cap'n. 

'Till  the  last  drop  o'  blood  is  drained  out 
o'  me,  an'  that  ye'd  know,  if  ye  knowed 
me  better,  Mrs.  Larriper." 

"Come  on  writh  yer  s won  Is  an'  popguns, 
an'  wTe'll  take  our  place  by  the  side  o'  the 
deck-house,  here,  manny,"  the  good  woman 
whispered. 

As  Cap'n  Rog  disappeared  in  his  cabin, 
Mrs.  Larriper  imparted  this  information  to 
me:  "They'll  be  after  the  ol'  snake  soon 
as  dark  comes.  Didn't  the  man  that  was 
cut  tell  me  all  about  it  ?  We'll  have  t' 
bate  them  or  the  diwle  will  take  the  helm. 
You  kape  the  fire  goin'  an'  the  water  hot  an' 


THE   MASTER  189 

put  a  big  squirt  in  the  tank,  boy,  soon  as  ever 
ye  can.  Me  an'  the  gal  has  got  t'  clane  the 
deck.  There's  blood  a  plenty  on  the  port 
side  where  the  boy  was  cut,  an'  I  want  the 
ship  t'  be  lookin'  nate  in  the  mornin'." 

The  crew  was  growing  noisier  in  the 
fo'c's'le.  Cap'n  Rog  limped  out  of  his  door 
with  pistols  and  broadswords  in  a  basket. 
He  looked  at  me  very  soberly,  and  winked 
and  passed  me  a  loaded  pistol,  and  I  shoved 
it  into  my  pocket,  as  I  turned  in  to  the 
galley.  The  room  was  hot  as  a  Turkish 
bath,  and  the  range  tanks  full  of  boiling 
water.  I  started  the  pump  and  kept  the 
hot  water  flowing  for  about  half  an  hour. 
Darkness  had  come,  and  Wave  had  struck 
the  lights.  I  heard  the  tramp  and  voices 
of  men  on  the  deck,  and  ran  to  the  side  of 
the  super-cap'n.  She  was  on  her  knees 
scrubbing,  with  the  hose  in  her  hand.  I 
slipped  a  little  as  I  approached  and  went 
on  my  hands  and  knees,  and  saw  that  the 
deck  had  been  smeared  with  soft-soap. 

Mrs.  Larriper  heard  them  coming  and 
got  to  her  feet  and  whispered: 

"Go  into  the  cabin  there  with  the  gal 
an'  the  Cap'n,  quick  now.  Kape  yer  guns 
still,  till  I  give  ye  the  word." 


190  THE   MASTER 

I  wanted  to  stand  by  and  fight  with  her, 
but  suddenly  I  comprehended  the  plan  of 
the  super-cap'n,  and  made  haste  to  obey 
her  orders.  She  came  close  to  the  cabin 
door,  and  I  could  hear  the  men  slipping  and 
a  heavy  fall  on  the  soaped  deck.  In  a 
second  two  or  three  had  gone  down  in  the 
soap. 

"Back  with  yez--back  t'  yer  quarters, 
men,"  I  heard  Mrs.  Larriper  say,  as  they 
approached  her. 

A  wild  burst  of  laughter  was  the  only 
answer  that  I  could  hear. 

"Go  t'  yer  quarters,  I  say,  an'  none  o'  yer 
tommy-traverse.  What!  yez'll  show  a  knife 
t'  me?" 

We  heard  a  burst  of  steam  and  the  hiss 
of  hot  water,  and  hasty  footfalls,  and  men 
tumbling  headlong,  and  cries  loud  as  pistol 
shots,  and  holy  names  mounting  above  the 
din.  We  ran  to  the  side  of  Mrs.  Larriper. 
The  men  had  gone  down  in  a  heap  where 
she  had  been  scrubbing. 

The  super-cap'n  had  stopped  the  deadly 
spray  of  hot  water  and  stood  holding  the 
hose  end,  that  was  wrapped  in  flannel. 

"If  wan  o'  yez  pulls  a  gun,"  she  shouted, 
"I'll  stew  his  head  off  him  —  that  I  will." 


THE   MASTER  191 

Cap'n  Rog  made  a  rush  with  his  broad 
sword,  and  had  begun  to  slash  right  and 
left  at  the  helpless  men  before  we  could 
stop  him.  Mrs.  Larriper  caught  him  by 
the  nape  of  his  neck  in  a  jiffy  and  brought 
him  down.  Men  with  heads  and  faces  half- 
cooked,  I  fancy,  were  groaning  as  they 
crawled  away  on  their  hands  and  knees, 
like  so  many  pigs.  Others  lay  stunned  and 
helpless  where  they  had  fallen. 

"Take  the  hose,  Wave,  an'  we'll  grab 
their  knives  an'  pistols  —  quick  now,"  the 
super-cap'n  shouted  as  her  hand  dove  into 
a  man's  pocket.  Cap'n  Rog  and  I  jumped 
to  obey  the  order  and  had  seized  the  weapons 
of  two  scalded  men  and  flung  them  into  the 
sea,  when  I  saw  the  first  mate  turn  quickly 
and  make  a  lunge  at  the  "lady  cook"  with 
his  knife.  She  caught  him  by  his  working 
wrist  and  the  seat  of  his  trousers  and  carried 
him  a  few  paces  and  flung  him  into  the 
fo'c's'le  and  a  part  of  her  skirt  went  with  him. 

Another  man  had  got  to  his  knees,  and 
put  a  bullet  through  my  left  arm,  when 
the  devil  ran  away  with  us.  The  Cap'n 
was  yelling  and  chopping  with  his  broad 
sword,  and  I  in  hot  pursuit  of  a  man  who 
had  scrambled  up  and  was  running  for  the 


192  THE   MASTER 

fo'c's'le.  I  felled  him  with  a  blow  on  his 
head,  and  he  tumbled  in  a  heap  on  the 
weather-boards  of  the  open  door.  I  came 
to  with  my  head  in  a  swirl  and  Mrs.  Lar- 
riper's  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"That'll  do  — that'll  do,  boy,"  she  was 
saying.  "Come  with  me,  now." 

She  carried  a  lantern  in  her  hand,  and 
Rog  Rone  was  beside  her. 

"You  stand  here  with  yer  dough-trimmer, 
little  man,  an'  mind  ye  kape  'em  inside," 
said  the  good  woman. 

We  left  the  Cap'n  at  the  fo'c's'le  door 
and  began  to  explore  the  deck.  We  found 
a  man  lying  with  his  swollen  head  on  one 
of  the  anchor  chains.  Mrs.  Larriper  took 
away  his  knife  and  pistol,  and  helped  him 
to  his  feet  very  tenderly. 

"Poor   lad!   come   with   me,   now    -that  - 
a    good    boy  —  an'    I'll    be    yer    mother  - 
please   God  —  till   yer  out   o'   yer  trouble," 
she  gently  urged  as  she  led  him  along. 

There  were  no  more  of  the  scalded  crew 
outside  the  fo'c's'le,  save  three  who  lay  in 
the  soaped  area,  dead  or  dying  from  their 
wounds,  and  those  in  the  galley,  and  him 
I  had  done  for.  We  could  hear  groans 
inside,  as  we  passed  the  fo'c's'le  door,  where 


THE   MASTER  193 

were  Wave  and  Rog  Rone,  the  latter  very 
alert  with  his  cane  in  one  hand,  his  bloody 
broadsword  in  the  other.  Our  battle  was 
won,  for  we  knew  that  we  had  little  to  fear 
from  the  men  who  had  gone  to  cover.  I 
followed  Mrs.  Larriper  and  her  charge  to 
the  galley,  where  she  covered  the  face  and 
neck  of  the  afflicted  man  with  oil,  and  laid 
him  beside  his  mate  on  the  floor. 

There  is  little  more  which  the  reader 
will  need  to  know  of  those  black  days  on 
the  Susquehanna.  How  first  we  cleaned  the 
store-room  of  its  grog  and  threw  it  into  the 
sea;  how  the  "lady  cook"  and  her  daughter 
helped  in  the  burial  of  two,  who  put  off 
on  their  last  cruise  about  midnight;  how 
at  daybreak,  Mrs.  Larriper  bravely  entered 
the  fo'c's'le,  armed  with  coffee  and  toast, 
porridge  and  potatoes  and  bacon,  and  a 
cheerful  greeting;  how  both  \vomen  bound 
up  the  wounds  of  the  afflicted  and  nursed 
them  with  a  mother's  tenderness  —  of  all 
and  each  of  these  details  there  is  little  which 
I  may  properly  set  down,  for  you  can  read 
of  their  like  in  many  books  —  but  in  this 
of  mine,  I  am  telling  of  things  which  have 
rarely  if  ever  happened  in  the  adventures 
of  other  men. 


194  THE   MASTER 

We  were  two  weeks  with  a  fair  wind, 
bringing  the  ship  to  port,  and  had  only 
one  member  of  the  crew  to  help  us.  My 
left  arm  had  been  put  pretty  well  out  of 
business;  the  wound  was  a  trifle,  but  the 
torn  muscles  let  my  blood  like  a  score  of 
leeches,  if  I  put  the  least  tax  upon  them. 

Cap'n  Rog  took  great  credit  to  himself 
for  our  victory,  but  could  only  \\ink  and 
shake  his  head  and  swear  and  smite  the 
table  in  his  effort  to  do  ju>{i<r  to  the  "ladv 
cook."  lie  found  a  parallel  in  the  Scriptures 
for  the  whole  occurrence  and,  with  the 
gin  overboard,  had  less  philosophy  and  better 
seamanship.  Each  gave  a  hand  in  the  work, 
Cap'n  Larriper  having  full  command,  and 
we  slowly  wore  out  the  voyage  with,  perhaps, 
a  fourth  of  our  canvas,  and  one  bright  mor 
ning,  late  in  May  and  early  in  the  forenoon 
watch,  we  wallowed  up  the  harbour  of  Quebec. 

"  'Member,  matey,  ye've  gi'n  me  yer  word," 
said  Rog  Rone,  as  we  Mood  on  the  deck 
together,  looking  up  at  the  town.  "Fair  play 
in  an'  out,  which,  as  I  always  said,  is  the  only 
way  atween  frien's.  Fair  play's  the  word !" 

"I  shall  do  as  I  agreed,"  was  my  ,m-\\er. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WE  LOWERED  an  anchor,  and  Rone 
went  ashore  in  a  small  boat.  I 
told  my  plans  to  Cap'n  Larriper. 

"Look  out  fer  the  old  divvle,"  she 
whispered.  "He's  tame  now,  but  when  he's 
had  a  pull  at  the  gin  he'll  be  as  wild  as 
ever.  Don't  ye  niver  trust  the  man.  He'll  be 
soft  as  mush  till  ye  have  the  money,  then, 
some  day  when  yer  back  is  turned,  his  cane 
'11  fly  like  the  paw  of  a  cat  an'  that'll  be 
the  end  o'  ye,  boy." 

I  promised  to  be  careful,  and  the  "lady 
cook"  began  to  prepare  food  for  our  journey 
into  the  forest.  About  six  weeks  had  passed 
since  I  found  myself  in  a  bunk  on  the  Sus- 
quehanna.  I  sat  down  and  wrote  their 
history  and  more  in  a  long  letter  to  Ruth 
Horton,  and  omitted  not  to  tell  her  of  my 
proposed  journey  ashore,  and  of  its  hopeful 
promise. 

Cap'n  Larriper  loaned  me  a  trifle  of 
money,  and  went  ashore  with  the  letter  and 
a  telegram  to  James  Darklight,  of  whom 

195 


196  THE   MASTER 

I  sought  quick  information  regarding  my 
friend,  the  .shoemaker.  I  was  now  in  abso 
lute  command  of  the  Susq. 

Our  disabled  men  had  ><>re  heads  and 
hands,  and  a  sorry  look,  but  were  about  the 
deck  and  in  good  spirits,  and  disposed  to 
stick  to  the  old  ship  as  we  thought.  The 
man  who  had  had  a  knife  thrust  to  its  hilt 
in  his  upper  arm  was  now  the  ablest  seaman 
of  them  all.  The  super-cap'n  had  won 
their  hearts,  and  when  they  began  to  see  the 
straits  of  Hemp  in  their  worry,  she  pooh- 
poohed  the  whole  matter  as  a  mere  "trifle 
of  a  tiff"  and  set  their  minds  at  ease.  They 
were  like  children  about  the  knees  of  a 
big  mother  and  they  loved  her,  but  as  men 
love  who  scarcely  know  what  to  do  about 
it  —  with  rough  oaths  and  smiles,  and  ox- 
like  submissiveness  and  now  and  then  a 
tear  in  the  eye. 

Cap'n  Larriper  returned  at  midday  with 
an  answer  from  Darklight.  It  said: 

"  The  shoemaker  gone  for  about  six  weeks,  nobody 
know>  wh.-iv.  Thought  him  with  you,  shop  closed. 
Entered  window.  Nobody  there.  All  send  lore." 

The  message  surprised  and  puzzled  me. 
I  had  expected  to  hear  of  the  discover}'  of 
the  lifeless  body  and  of  its  burial.  I  was 


THE  MASTER  197 

perplexed  with  theories.  I  thought  of  Crab- 
tree  and  saw  a  possibility  that  he  might 
have  returned  with  help  and  brought  my 
friend  back  to  life.  Lovel  had  told  me 
that  he  was  going  away  and  so,  perhaps, 
he  had  gone.  I  wrote  a  telegram  to  Condon, 
begging  him  to  ascertain  where  I  could 
reach  my  friend,  if  possible,  and  let  me  have 
a  prompt  answer. 

Cap'n  Rog  returned  in  a  tug  soon  after 
noon,  and  took  the  Susq  up  to  her  dock. 
He  had  brought  help  aboard  with  him  and 
was  in  high  feather.  He  stood  on  the  roof 
of  the  deck-house  and  waved  his  cane  and 
bawled  his  orders  loudly,  as  we  moved  in. 
Now  and  then  he  gave  a  downward  glance 
to  see  if  Mrs.  Larriper  were  observing  him. 
When  the  unloading  had  begun  he  came 
to  me  and  said  with  a  shrewd  wink: 

"The  Cap'n  has  got  his  sails  in  the  wind, 
so  he  has,  an'  we'll  be  off  in  the  mornink 
and  leave  the  ship  with  Cap'n  Larriper 
which,  God  knows,  she  couldn't  be  in  no 
better  hands,  I  say." 

He  drew  his  wallet  and  removed  from  it 
a  newspaper  clipping  and  shook  it  in  the 
air  before  me,  saying: 

"Now  this  'ere  is  suthink  very  partic'Iar 


108  THE   MASTER 

fine  an'  tasty  in  the  way  o'  readinks.  It 
beats  the  Bible  —  it  does,  an'  no  mistake. 
It  was  writ  by  a  man  who  give  it  to  me  in 
one  o'  them  newspaper  offices,  whr^e  I  ast 
'em  if  they  knowed  that  place  in  the  woods, 
an'  I  tol'  'em  how  ye  was  lookink  fer  yer 
dear  ol'  uncle.  It's  suthink  very  partir'lar 
an'  I'll  be  obleeged  if  ye'll  read  it  slow  an' 
careful,  an'  give  it  back  prompt." 

He  passed  me  the  bit  of  paper,  which,  I 
observed,  was  dirty  and  worn  at  the  creases , 
suggesting  that  it  had  been  cut  and  folded 
some  time  before.  The  thought  came  to 
me  that  perhaps  it  had  been  among  the 
papers  in  that  envelope  which  someone  had 
stolen  from  my  trunk.  I  began  then  to  get 
some  light  on  the  attitude  of  the  old  Cap'n 
toward  myself.  I  read  as  follows: 

The  few  who  have  hunted  in  the 
vicinity  of  Lac  Creche  may  have  observed 
the  handsome  harbour  and  the  high 
park  on  its  northern  end.  They  proo- 
ably  will  not  have  seen  the  hermit's 
home  with  its  lovely  garden  above  the 
cliffs,  for  it  is  hard  to  reach  and  most 
inhospitable.  The  rock  walls  beneath 
it  rise  sheer  two  hundred  feet  or  so  above 
the  lake.  There  are  many  acres  of  wild 
country  in  this  high  plateau  of  the 


THE  MASTER  199 

hermitage  —  probably  more  than  a 
hundred.  The  Indians  call  it  "The 
Isle  of  the  Air" — an  apt  phrase,  for 
its  rugged  sides  plunge  sharply  down 
and  divide  it  from  the  rest  of  the  wilder 
ness.  There  are  only  three  places  where 
the  traveller  can  ascend.  At  the  end 
of  a  toilsome  and  dangerous  path  he 
will  find  a  beautiful  country.  .Great 
pines  and  spruces  lift  their  tops  into 
the  sky  and  the  smooth  forest  floor  is 
a  wild  garden  of  ferns  and  flowers  in 
midsummer.  The  trails  of  the  hermit 
are  bordered  with  them,  and  the  ground 
is  kept  clear  of  brush  and  fallen  trees. 
Near  the  centre  of  the  plateau  I  came 
to  a  small  pond  covered  with  white 
lilies,  where  a  number  of  deer  were 
feeding,  and  to  my  surprise  they  seemed 
not  to  be  afraid  of  me.  The  hermit's 
house  is  inclosed  by  impenetrable  thickets 
of  spruce  and  cedar  and  wild  thorn.  I 
climbed  a  small  tree  of  ironwood  to 
get  a  view  of  it.  The  house  is  large, 
for  the  hermit  has  quite  a  family  —  a 
friend  of  about  his  own  age,  a  son  and 
a  number  of  servants,  so  my  Indian 
guide  informed  me.  It  is  built  of  spruce 
logs  around  a  court  —  a  rambling  sort 
of  structure,  one  story  in  height.  It 
stood  in  the  midst  of  a  great  garden  of 
flowers  and  vegetables.  An  enormous 


200  THE   MASTER 

black  bear  —  for  the  discouragement  of 
intruders,  I  presume  —  lay  by  the  rear 
entrance.  I  saw  only  a  single  human 
being  about  the  place,  an  old  Indian 
of  a  tril>e  in  the  far  north,  they  tell  me. 
My  guide  had  many  tale>  to  relate  of 
this  sylvan  home  of  the  hermit,  some 
of  them  tinged  with  superstition.  He 
would  not  go  with  me  beyond  the  edge 
of  the  cliff,  for  he  said  the  woods  were 
haunted  up  there  and  the  thickets  alive 
with  "tinga"  (the  spotted  adder),  which 
the  hermit  has  collected.  I  encountered 
none  of  these  deadly  perils,  hut  no  doubt 
one  who  had  the  courage  and  impudence 
to  penetrate  this  inclosure  would  have 
adventures  worth  recording.  I  went  by 
the  way  of  Crofton,  were  guides  may  be 
found  who  know  the  Creche  country. 

The  Cap'n  had  not  misjudged  the  nature  of 
his  find,  for  in  all  likelihood  the  man  referred 
to  was  my  uncle,  and  it  made  me  keen  for 
the  journey.  The  end  of  my  long  quest  had 
been  finally  and  quite  definitely  placed  and 
now,  soon,  I  should  see  the  man  who  was 
my  nearest  relative,  and  who  might  be  a 
dear  and  valued  friend  to  me. 

"I  should  like  to  talk  with  the  man  who 
wrote  this,"  I  said  in  some  excitement,  as 
I  returned  the  clipping. 


THE   MASTER  201 

"An'  that's  what  I  says  to  him,  an'  very 
plain,  an'  right  to  the  p'int,"  Cap'n  Rog 
answered.  "But  he's  off  on  the  cars  an' 
'11  be  a  thousand  hails  in  the  west  by  sun 
down.  I've  bought  a  basket  with  straps 
on,  an'  we'll  put  in  some  choke-dog  an'  be 
off  at  the  end  o'  the  middle  watch.  There's 
a  wind  on  me,  matey.  I'm  burning  in  the 
hawse." 

Cap'n  Larriper  called  me  aside  before 
we  left  and  made  me  tell  her  just  where  and 
how  we  were  going,  and  gave  me  another 
word  of  caution  as  to  the  character  of  my 
fellow  traveller. 

"Ye'll  find  two  pairs  o'  socks  an'  a  bit 
o'  porridge  an'  a  bundle  o'  cakes  in  the 
basket,"  she  whispered.  "But  mind  ye,  now, 
they're  not  fer  the  ol'  ninnyhammer  —  not 
a  one  o'  them.  The  salt  horse  is  good 
enough  for  him.  Good-bye,  me  fine  boy,  and 
God  be  wid  ye." 

She  and  her  pretty  daughter  had  tears  in 
their  eyes  as  we  left  them,  and  I  could  scarcely 
keep  back  my  own.  I  have  known  all  kinds 
of  people,  but  none  with  better  hearts  in 
them. 

We  took  the  cars  at  daybreak  and  were 
conveyed  to  the  little  mill  village  of  Crofton. 


202  THE   MASTER 

Here  we  found  our  guide,  a  lean,  wiry  man, 
half  French,  half  Indian  and  all  woodsman. 
At  nine  o'clock,  under  a  clear  sky,  we  began 
our  tramp  and  were  soon  deep  in  the  virgin 
forest.  The  half-breed  and  I  carried  the 
packs,  and  the  Cap'n  growled  along  beside 
us  and  had  all  he  could  do  to  carry  his  stiff 
leg.  The  trail  was  rough,  and  now  and 
then  steep  as  a  ladder  or  soft  as  hasty  pudding, 
and  Cap'n  Rog  grew  hot  and  red  and  noisy, 
and  complained  of  his  "sny"  and  called  for 
gin  and  "choke-dog,"  which  was  his  name 
for  luncheon,  all  too  frequently. 

He  had  loaded  my  pack  with  gin,  and  sat 
under  a  tilted  bottle  at  least  twenty  times 
a  day.  There  were  moments  when  I  thought 
I  had  never  seen  a  man  so  gifted  in  sinful 
speech.  He  swore  that  we  were  trying  to 
wear  him  out,  and  cursed  us  if  he  got  behind 
a  little,  and  once  in  a  passion  flourished  his 
cane  above  the  guide's  head,  and  threatened 
to  brain  me  unless  I  would  stay  back  and 
give  him  a  hand  in  the  hard  going,  where 
I  had  enough  trouble  with  my  own  share  of 
the  burden,  it  seemed  to  me.  At  such 
moments  the  look  in  his  face  gave  me  a 
singular  fear  of  him,  for  I  was  young,  those 
days,  and  not  so  brave  as  some,  probably, 


THE   MASTER  203 

and  I  did  my  best  to  please  him.  My  life 
and  health  were  a  part  of  his  capital  in  this 
adventure,  else,  I  am  sure,  there  would  be 
no  record  of  it. 

In  his  best  humour,  and  especially  if  he 
wished  me  to  rub  his  leg  or  do  him  a  like 
favour,  he  would  call  me  "matey"  or  "cappy " 
or  "friendy"  or  "dear  child."  Then  his 
voice  took  on  a  kind  of  softness  and  expressed, 
I  doubt  not,  as  I  now  think  of  it,  a  better 
feeling  than  he  was  wont  to  have.  When 
ever  we  stopped  to  rest,  and  that  was  often, 
he  would  sit  and  whet  his  knife  and  sing 
old  barbaric  songs  of  the  sea,  some  of  them 
beyond  the  imagination  of  gentlefolk  in  their 
vileness.  Often  he  would  sit  and  kill  toads 
and  bees  and  moths  and  butterflies,  and  all 
creatures  that  came  within  a  cane's  length  of 
his  body  and,  curiously,  tear  them  into  pieces. 

It  seemed  as  if  he  were  always  searching 
for  blood  and  the  writhe  of  torture. 

In  all  my  acquaintance  with  the  man  I 
never  saw  him  asleep.  Often  I  would  awake 
in  the  deep  of  the  night  and  find  him  sitting 
by  the  fire,  muttering  or  tapping  with  his 
cane  or  groping  in  the  basket,  or  standing 
near  and  looking  down  at  us. 

"Dod    ram    yer    pictur',    Bill    Horkins!" 


204  THE   MASTER 

I  heard  him  mutter,  one  night,  as  he  struck 
the  air  with  his  cane.  Sometimes  the  firelit 
gloom  and  the  thought  of  my  helplessness 
would  quicken  my  heart  a  little,  but  I  had 
small  fear  of  him  those  days  save  wrhen  he  got 
in  a  temper,  for  I  knew  that  he  was  saving 
me  to  draw  a  pot  of  money  from  my  uncle. 
The  thought  of  that  had  begun  to  worry  me, 
but  I  must  go  on  and  be  square  with  him, 
pirate  that  he  was. 

Rone  was  such  a  clog  upon  us  that  our  food 
gave  out  and  we  had  still  another  day  to  travel. 
He  would  have  it  that  we  were  to  blame  for 
this,  and  accused  us  of  a  plot  to  starve  him, 
and  cursed  and  muttered  as  he  dragged  along 
in  the  rear,  that  day  of  our  fast. 

Cold,  cloudy  weather  was  upon  us  and  a 
little  flurry  of  snow  had  fallen.  We  had 
been  slowly  climbing  into  higher  and  cooler 
country  and  came  out,  by  and  by,  on  a  great, 
open  marsh  meadow,  with  a  shell  of  ice  on 
its  water  and  crystals  of  frost  in  the  wild 
grasses.  We  could  see  hoary,  misty 
mountain-tops  ahead,  above  the  forest  roof. 
Here  was  sloppy  footing  and  Rone  sat  down 
in  the  water  and  felt  his  stomach,  and  roared 
with  its  bestial  craving. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  I  asked. 


THE   MASTER  205 

"I'm  hogging,  iron-sick,  rotten!"  he 
shouted.  "You've  yawed  me  all  over  the 
woods  till  I'm  wobble-cropped.  One  o'  ye 
had  orter  take  me  on  his  back,  pippin." 

"I  cannot  do  it,  and  wouldn't  if  I  could," 
was  my  answer,  for  I  was  well  out  of  patience. 
"Let  the  gin  alone  and  you'll  carry  yourself, 
easy  enough." 

It  is  wonderful  how  hard  travel  and  a  day 
or  two  of  fasting  will  uncover  a  man.  For 
a  moment  we  both  stripped  our  souls  and 
showed  them  to  each  other,  and  I,  knowing 
that  he  was  well  able  to  carry  his  own  weight, 
spoke  out  with  a  brutal  frankness. 

He  gave  me  a  look,  then,  black  as  night 
and  full  of  the  devil's  cunning,  and  it  told 
of  all  he  had  planned  for  me. 

"Very  good,  pippin,"  he  whined  in  a 
moment.  "I  wouldn't  'a'  thought  it,  'deed 
I  wouldn't,  pippin  —  not  when  I've  saift 
yer  life  an'  took  care  o'  ye  gentle  an'  give 
ye  the  best  on  the  ship." 

"Look  here,  I've  heard  enough  of  that 
kind  of  thing,"  I  said.  "Don't  fool  yourself 
by  trying  to  fool  me.  I  know  all  about  you, 
man.  If  I  paid  my  debt  to  you  I'd  take 
that  cane  out  of  your  hand  and  break  your 
silly  head  with  it.  We'll  drop  that.  I  have 


206  THE   MASTER 

gone  into  this  plan  with  you,  and  I  will  keep 
my  word,  but  no  more  palaver,  if  you  please. 
Lie  down  here  and  die  if  you  want  to,  Rone  - 
I've  no  objection." 

Cap'n  Rog  turned  pale.  He  glared  into 
my  eyes  and  seemed  to  shove  his  head  toward 
me  as  he  spoke. 

"What  d'  ye  go  an*  git  sore  fer,  pippin? 
I  ain't  done  nothink  t'  you  --honest  t'  God, 
I  ain't  —  an'  I  never  meant  ye  no  harm, 
pippin —  not  me  —  an*  I  can  prove  it." 

"See  —  blind  geese!"  the  guide  shouted, 
pointing  into  the  sky. 

Two  geese  were  flying  slowly  and  aim 
lessly  above  the  woods  and  shifting  their 
course  with  every  stroke  of  the  wing.  Their 
movements  suggested  great  weariness.  One 
keeled  half  over  and  fell  some  twenty  feet 
and  caught  the  air  with  his  wings  and 
struggled  on.  Suddenly  he  began  to  coast 
downward  very  swiftly  and  struck  the  top 
of  a  tall  pine,  at  the  edge  of  the  meadow,  and 
dropped  whirling  to  the  ground.  The  Cap'n 
leaped  up  and  ran  with  a  speed  that 
astonished  me  toward  the  big  pine.  We 
followed,  and  when  we  overtook  him  he  was 
beating  the  helpless  bird  into  pulp  with  his 
cane.  The  guide  stopped  him  and  lifted 


THE   MASTER  207 

the  goose  and  showed  me  that  its  eyes  were 
crusted  over  with  snow  ice. 

"He  go  south,"  the  man  explained,  pointing 
at  the  mountains.  "Way  up  high  he  strike 
snow-storm.  Snow  freeze  on,  so  make  'im 
blind." 

Our  guide  cut  off  the  head  and  flung  it 
away.  Cap'n  Rog  seized  it  and  lapped  the 
dripping  blood  and  clung  to  a  leg  of  the 
goose,  while  we  made  haste  to  get  to  higher 
ground.  Soon  we  had  a  fire  going  and  the 
meat  of  the  fowl  in  a  frying-pan.  The 
Cap'n  hovered  over  it  and  sniffed  and  smacked 
his  lips,  and  suddenly  seized  a  piece  of  hot 
meat  in  his  fingers  and  ran  aside,  eating 
and  cursing  in  a  manner  that  reminded  me 
of  a  baited  dog  with  a  bone.  He  was 
determined  to  consume  the  whole  carcass 
and,  only  after  a  fierce  quarrel,  we  managed  to 
save  a  part  of  it  for  fear  of  worse  luck  to  come. 

We  went  on  in  far  better  spirits,  and  the 
sky  came  clear  and  the  air  warmer  and, 
about  sundown,  we  could  see  the  lake  beneath 
us,  and  the  lifted  isle  beyond  it.  Darkness 
had  fallen  when,  having  skirted  the  shore, 
we  stood  gazing  up  at  the  timbered  cliffs 
of  the  isle.  I  could  not  wait  until  morning, 
as  the  others  thought  best,  and  urged  the 


208  THE   MASTER 

guide  to  go  on  with  me.  Cap'n  Rog  was 
groaning  with  aches  and  pains,  and  we  left 
him  goose  enough  for  his  breakfast,  and 
made  him  a  bed  near  the  lake  shore,  and  got 
ready  to  ascend  the  trail.  There  was  a 
curious  whine  in  the  voice  of  the  old  sea- 
dog,  as  he  called  me  to  his  side  just  before 
I  left  him,  and  addressed  these  words  to  me: 

"Keep  me  in  yer  mind's  eye,  friendy,  an' 
'member  ye've  gi'n  me  yer  word.  Dear 
child!  You  don'  know  how  I'll  worry  —  so 
ye  don't." 

The  guide  took  a  long  rope  from  his 
basket  and  slung  it  over  his  shoulder,  and 
we  tramped  a  mile  or  so  around  the  clifT 
before  we  got  a  footing.  The  night  was 
clear  and  a  full  moon  straight  above  us. 
\Ye  halted  whore  the  rocks  came  to  our  feet 
in  naked  terraces  steep  as  a  Dutch  roof.  My 
guide  looped  an  end  of  the  rope  around  his 
own  body  and  tied  the  other  just  above  my 
hips,  and  so  we  began  our  climb.  Our  clothes 
were  torn  and  our  hands  bleeding,  when  we 
got  to  a  line  of  small  timber  which  grew  out 
of  a  great  crevice  in  the  rocks,  and  seemed 
to  pour  over  the  edge  above  us  like  a  narrow, 
green  cascade.  There  we  drew  our  weight 
from  tree  to  tree,  and  soon  came  to  a  level 


THE   MASTER  £09 

footing  in  thick  woods.  My  guide  led  me 
to  the  trail,  some  twenty  rods  from  the  edge 
of  the  cliff,  and  having  got  my  direction  I 
bade  him  return  to  our  little  camp  on  the 
lake  shore.  As  I  felt  my  way  alone  over 
the  smooth  trail  a  sudden  fear  of  those  perils, 
of  which  I  had  read  enough  to  stimulate  a 
rather  lively  imagination,  fell  upon  me. 
There  was  only  a  faint  light  under  the  crown 
of  the  forest,  and  I  went  on  slowly  with  a 
large  navy  revolver  in  my  hand.  I  stumbled 
against  the  high  hedges  of  the  hermitage, 
by  and  by,  and  fell.  The  rustling  boughs 
startled  some  animal  in  the  moonlit  inclosure. 
It  crashed  through  the  bushes  with  a  deep 
growl  and  went  quickly  out  of  hearing.  I 
groped  along  the  thicket's  edge,  wondering 
what  I  should  do  next,  when  suddenly  I  saw 
a  beam  of  light  slanting  downward  in  the 
darkness  and  wavering  all  about  me.  I 
stood  still,  and  soon  it  fell  upon  my  body, 
and  then  upon  my  face.  Its  glow  seemed 
to  bewilder  me  so  that  I  reeled,  and  shaded 
my  eyes,  and  had  a  helpless  feeling  all  at 
once.  In  half  a  moment  the  voice  of  a  man 
called  from  the  upper  story  of  the  woods, 
near  me: 

"Who's  there?" 


210  THE   MASTER 

I  told  my  name  and  briefly  explained  my 
mission.  Then  s;iid  the  voice: 

"Stand  still,  and  I  will  come  to  you." 

The  beam  of  light  swung  away  and  shot 
over  the  wall  of  thickets.  I  saw  its  colour 
change  from  orange  to  violet;  I  saw  it  sway 
in  the  gloom  for  half  a  moment  and  disappear. 
Soon  I  could  hear  feet  slowly  descending  on 
a  ladder.  They  reached  the  ground,  and 
again  the  light  flashed  upon  me. 

"Where's  Vincent?"  the  voice  queried. 

"Vincent?"     I  asked. 
'Your  uncle's  messenger." 

"He  died  in  Li  verpool  -  -  the  night  he 
found  me." 

The  man  came  near  and  held  the  light 
on  my  face.  He  turned  the  light  on  his 
own.  I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"You  have  seen  me  before?"  he  asked. 
4 Yes;    you  arc  Gabriel  Horton,"  was  my 
answer.     "I   saw   you   at   the   Lanthorne   in 
New  York." 

"Yes,  yes  —  you  know  my  brother  —  poor 
man!  How  is  he?" 

"He  was  well  when  I  saw  him  but  a  little 
more  than  M'\  weeks  ago.  How  is  my  uncle?" 

"Dead!"  he  answered  simply,  and  stood 
a  moment  stroking  his  long  beard  in  silence. 


THE   MASTER  211 

"  Went  to  New  York  long  ago  to  find  a  friend. 
It  seems  that  he  found,  in  some  old  music 
store,  a  violin  which  he  had  lost  many  years 
ago.  He  remained  there  until  his  death, 
soon  afterward.  A  great  musician  was  David, 
and  a  good  friend,  too." 

I  felt  a  bitter  sense  of  disappointment.  I 
had  come  too  late  and  could  never  give  my 
uncle  the  help  he  desired. 

"You  are  welcome  here,"  said  Gabriel 
Horton,  as  he  took  my  arm  and  led  me  to  a 
narrow  path  that  followed  the  hedge.  He 
stopped  soon,  and  took  another  look  at  my 
face  and  said:  "You  are  like  him.  I  am 
glad  to  see  you." 

At  his  side  was  an  opening  in  the  edge  of 
the  thicket.  This  we  entered  and  tramped 
back  and  forth  in  a  maze  of  narrowr  trails 
between  thick  walls  of  evergreen,  and  shortly 
entered  a  garden  with  a  row  of  lighted  win 
dows  beyond.  As  we  went  on  I  heard  the 
deep  growl  of  some  beast  near  the  trail  we 
followed. 

"Keep  close  to  me,"  said  my  guide.  'You 
are  now  in  another  world.  It  will  seem 
strange  to  you."  Soon  he  added:  "I  saw 
your  campfire  in  the  valley  and  went  to  the 
lookout." 


THE   MASTER 

We  crossed  a  large  veranda  and  my  guide 
raised  the  wooden  latch  of  a  door  and  swung 
it  open  and  hade  me  enter.  Candles  were 
burning  on  a  table  in  the  centre  of  a  large 
room.  It  was  a  library  walled  with  books 
on  every  side,  and  there  were  the  skins  of 
bear  and  caribou  and  gray  wolves  on  the 
floor.  A  microscope,  globes  and  charts,  and 
a  human  skeleton  stood  near  the  table.  1 
were  burning  in  the  rude  fireplace,  built  of 
dry-laid  stones.  The  floor,  walls,  and  ceiling 
were  of  spruce  and  cedar,  nicely  hewed  and 
split.  My  leader  drew  two  chairs  before  the 
fire,  for  the  night  was  chilly,  and  bade  me 
sit  down.  He  extinguished  the  burning 
candles  and  came  and  sat  with  me  in  the 
firelight,  and  slowly  filled  his  pipe. 

"I  have  a  long  story  to  tell  you/1  he  said, 
"and  if  you  are  not  too  weary  I  will  begin 
at  once." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Matter  is  not  dead  but  alive  and  everywhere 
palpitating  with  energies,  and  organic  life  is  simply 
.  .  .  a  complex  form  of  the  universal  life. 

HERBERT  SPENCER 

The  physical  splendour  of  light  and  color  ...  w  an 
entirely  spiritual  consciousness  accurately  and  absolutely 
proportioned  to  the  purity  of  the  moral  nature  and  to 
the  force  of  its  natural  and  wise  affections. 

RUSKIN 

1AM  a  man  of  few  words,"  he  began. 
"I  have  little  faith  in  them.  They 
are  the  playthings  of  a  child  and  men  should 
learn  to  put  them  away.  Even  these  I  now 
speak  are  false.  They  will  deceive  you, 
though  I  wish  them  to  tell  the  truth,  but  I 
shall  do  my  best. 

"Twenty-five  years  ago  my  health  broke 
down.  I  sought  help  of  a  great  physician  — 
your  uncle,  Dr.  David  Holm,  of  Detroit. 
My  health  improved  and  for  almost  a  year  I 
lived  in  his  home.  We  had  like  tastes  and 
were  well  abreast  in  our  thought  of  the 
mysteries,  and  were  lovers  of  nature,  and 
almost  music  mad. 

"Suddenly  his  wife  died,   leaving    him    a 


214  THE   MASTER 

baby  son,  just  born,  and  a  broken  heart.  I 
went  in  quest  of  a  nurse  for  the  child.  The 
only  available  one  was  a  deaf  mute,  and 
she  came  to  us.  The  infant  sickened  and 
v\as  near  death.  It  was  midsummer  and 
hot.  We  left  the  city,  seeking  better  air 
for  our  patient,  knowing  it  to  be  the  only 
remedy.  We  sailed  out  of  the  lakes,  and 
down  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  took  to  the 
woods,  by  and  by,  having  heard  of  this 
place,  where  a  certain  herb  which  the  doctor 
desired  for  his  child  grew  in  abundance.  We 
went  on  slowly  with  two  guides. 

'The  tenth  day  of  our  journey  afoot  we 
camped  on  the  shore  of  the  lake  bel<>\\ 
Next  morning  we  ascended  to  this  isle  of 
the  sky,  and  found  our  home  at  last.  The 
child  was  now  strong  and  hearty  and  so 
were  we  all.  We  began  to  build  our  camp  ami 
little  by  little  made  for  ourselves  a  kind  of 
heaven.  We  had  no  notion  of  staving  long 
and  planned  for  a  summer  home  only,  but 
here  we  remained.  We  had  found  a  place 
void  of  envy  and  vanity  and  malice  and 
deceit,  and  where  we  had  time  enough,  at 
last,  to  do  the  things  that  we  wished  o  do. 
We  were  both  stronger  than  we  had  been  in 
years  and  were  drawn  to  a  new  task.  A 


THE   MASTER  215 

lawyer  closed  our  relations  with  the  world 
and  there  was  little  to  call  us  back. 

"Ah,  he  was  a  rare  spirit  —  your  uncle  — 
and  more  than  a  brother  to  me.  We  under 
stood  each  other  and  thought  as  one,  but 
with  doubled  vision.  These  vital  queries 
led  us  out  of  soundings:  What  would  the 
mind  acquire  of  its  own  instruction  ?  How 
would  it  explain  itself  and  nature  ?  Would 
it  go  to  the  truth  straightway,  as  the  bird 
flies  to  its  home  ?  Is  not  much  of  its  heritage 
—  instincts,  powers,  capacities  —  weakened 
and  broken  dow^n  by  the  meddling  of  its  elders  ? 
Do  not  the  schools  destroy  powers  better 
than  those  they  impart? 

"The  child  grew  strong,  and  we  planned 
to  take  account  of  his  wisdom.  We  would 
defer  teaching  him  a  word,  even,  of  con 
ventional  knowledge  as  long  as  possible, 
and  learn,  by  and  by,  what  we  could  of  him. 
My  friend  used  to  say  that  we  should  learn 
of  children  instead  of  teaching  them.  That 
was  our  plan.  The  child  lived  with  his 
mute  nurse  and  neither  of  us  had  ever  a 
word  to  say  to  him.  The  woman  sent  for  her 
brother,  who  was  also  a  mute,  to  come  here 
and  be  our  servant.  Two  Indians,  who 
knew  nothing  of  our  language,  have  also 


THE   MASTER 

helped  us  in  the  work  of  the  *  island.'  So 
the  child  was  pretty  well  shut  away  from 
the  conventional  inlets  of  human  knowledge. 
It  may  seem  cruel  to  you,  l>ut  really  it  was 
not  so.  We  spoke  to  him  with  music  and 
very  freely.  Ever}'  day  your  uncle  played 
for  him  on  the  violin,  and  it  seemed  to  soothe 
all  discomfort  and  satisfy  his  longing.  He 
began  to  imitate  the  sound  of  the  instrument 
and  so  saved  and  developed  his  voice.  \Ye 
kept  him  apart  and  beyond  the  sound  of  our 
speech,  and  in  his  third  vrar  he  gave  us 
names,  and  they  were  short  phrases  of  music. 
He  did  not  forget  or  vary  them  in  the  least, 
for  years.  He  had  seen  one  of  the  Indians 
fire  a  gun,  and  he  named  him  with  a  sound 
suggesting  that  of  a  rifle.  In  like  manner 
he  gave  each  a  name,  that  of  his  nurse  bc*ing 
only  a  slow,  gentle  movement  of  his  hand, 
which  served  for  years,  although  in  time  he 
found  another  and  a  better  name  for  her. 

"Soon  he  had  learned  the  songs  of  tin- 
birds  and  could  whistle  them  with  an  art  so 
wonderful  that  they  seemed  to  think  him 
of  their  own  tribe  and  came  without  fear  to 
his  hand. 

"In  time  the  boy  developed  a  shrewdness 
that  surprised  us  both.  I  observed  that  he 


THE   MASTER  217 

began  to  watch  our  faces  very  closely.  He 
was  in  his  fifth  year  when  a  new  power  had 
come  to  him.  I  saw  that  he  was  able  to 
see  my  thoughts,  or  so  I  concluded.  The 
look  of  my  eyes,  the  lift  of  a  brow,  the  delicate 
play  of  muscles,  that  shape  one's  face  to  the 
mood  of  his  spirit,  the  feel  of  my  hand,  all 
had  a  meaning  and  he  understood  them. 
He  had  a  way  of  conveying  his  thoughts  to 
us  —  at  first  by  signs  and  a  language  very 
musical  and  all  his  own.  There  were  sounds 
in  his  voice  sweeter  than  the  best  tones  of  the 
violin.  Slowly  he  abandoned  signs  and  prattle. 

"A  singular  result  had  come,  and  one  we 
had  not  anticipated.  I  could  easily  satisfy 
myself  that  he  knew  many  of  my  thoughts. 
It  came  largely,  we  felt  sure,  from  well- 
trained  eyes.  He  had  been  compelled  to 
depend  upon  them  for  his  knowledge  and 
they  had  now  opened  the  gate  of  a  world 
forever  closed  to  us.  They  found  delight 
in  colours  which  we  could  not  see,  in  distances 
beyond  the  reach  of  our  vision. 

"It  is  a  wonderful  thing  —  the  eye  of 
man.  You  know  how  the  hunter  will  see 
game  in  far  thickets  which  we  look  in  vain 
to  discover!  We  do  not  know  how  to  use 
our  eyes.  We  take  our  knowledge  from 


THE   MASTER 

others  and  acquire  no  skill  in  observation. 
Our  boy  had  discovered  the  shadows  of  our 
thoughts. 

"'We  had  our  theory  to  account  for  tins. 
When  you  think  of  a  special  tiling  you  make 
a  mental  picture  of  it.  You  see  a  tree,  for 
instance,  before  you  >peak  iN  name,  and  if 
ray  eyes  were  keen  enough  I  should  find 
some  faint  reflection  of  the  image  in  your 
face.  Stand  before  the  mirror  and  think 
of  a  serpent  and  then  of  a  dove,  and  you  will 
see  your  face  change.  Now  this  training 
of  his  eyes  had,  somehow,  stimulated  the 
brain  cells  behind  them  and  a  sixth  sense  had 
come  to  him,  or  something  like  it,  a  power 
of  observation  which  understood  the  subtlest 
changes  in  my  face.  I  saw,  too,  that  one 
loses  the  great  gift,  in  part,  if  it  be  neglect  CM  1 
in  childhood. 

"The  boy's  insight  so  far  transcended 
ours  that  a  new  step  was  neeessary.  We 
began  to  teach  him  English.  He  learned  it 
with  astonishing  ease  and  quickness.  He 
was  ten  years  of  age  and  could  read  music 
and  play  the  violin.  He  had  no  sooner 
acquired  the  use  of  words  than  he  began  to 
puzzle  us  with  queries  and  seemed  to  get  our 
answers  before  we  had  spoken  them. 


THE   MASTER  219 

"'What  was  beyond  the  hills  and  the 
mountains?'  he  asked. 

"'More  hills  and  mountains,'  I  answered. 

"'And  more  people?' 

"'Yes.' 

"When  he  asked:  'Who  made  the  sky 
and  the  trees  ?  Whence  came  all  ?  Why 
were  we  living?'  we  frankly  expressed  our 
want  of  knowledge  and  sought  it  of  him. 

"'You  are  our  teacher,'  we  said.  'Tell 
us  who  made  the  sky  and  the  trees  and  the 
mountains  ? ' 

"He  shook  his  head,  doubtfully,  and  said 
that  he  would  find  out  and  tell  us.  He 
began  to  think,  feeling,  as  he  seemed  to  do, 
our  need  of  knowledge  and  the  will  to  supply 
it.  He  really  began  to  be  our  teacher  then. 

"He  had  seen  the  miracle  of  the  egg,  and 
got  from  the  birds  a  notion  of  fatherhood 
and  motherhood. 

"By  and  by,  he  informed  us  that  the 
valleys  of  the  earth  were  like  great  nests  full 
of  young,  and  that  the  father  and  mother 
were  Light  and  Darkness.  Light  went  away 
to  bring  comforts  for  her  children,  and  Dark 
ness  came  to  hide  them  w^hile  they  slept. 

"Tree,  flower,  fern,  and  beast  were,  there 
fore,  his  brothers  and  he  loved  them,  but  he 


220  THE   MASTER 

saw    this    difference    between    himself    and 

them:    he  could  make  a  fire  and  they  could 

not.     Man  was  the  favoured  child   of  Light 

-  the  great  mother  —  for  she  had  given  him 

the  power  to  summon  her  in    the    darkness. 

He  had  but  to  strike  a  fire  and  she  was  with 

him  to  illumine  the  night  and  temper  the  cold. 

*You  see  he  had  gone  to  myth-making, 

as  had  the  men  of  old. 

"We  made  him  a  partner  in  our  studies. 
One  day  his  father  gave  him  a  few  dry, 
withered  seeds  and  bade  him  plant  them. 
They  sprang  up  and  spread  their  colours, 
by  and  by. 

"We  watched  a  caterpillar  weaving  its 
cocoon.  It  lay  dead  and,  in  time,  we  saw 
a  butterfly  break  the  shroud  and  come  out 
in  bright  azure  wings. 

"He  looked  into  my  microscope  and  saw 
the  swarming  life  hid  by  its  littleness.  He 
saw  that  everything  had  life  in  it  —  even  the 
rocks  and  the  forest  mould  -  and  that  all 
was  on  the  road  to  beauty  and  betterment. 
It  was  like  the  withered  seed  and  the  cater 
pillar.  He  knew  only  life  and  there  was 
no  such  thing  as  death  in  his  view,  for  he 
had  never  been  able  to  discover  it. 

"By  and  by  his  nurse  died. 


THE   MASTER 

"He  sat  beside  her  and  seemed  to  be 
thinking  of  the  great  procession  of  life  which 
we  had  seen  together. 

"'She  has  fallen  'like  a  tree,'  he  said. 
'She  will  wither  and  change  like  the  seed 
and  the  caterpillar/ 

"You  see,  he  could  think  of  life  only  as 
a  thing  inextinguishable  and  of  many  homes. 
To  him  death  was  nothing  but  a  change  of 
form  and  place  and  colour. 

"That  night  we  buried  her,  and  next  day 
he  got  a  notion  that  the  darkness  had  taken 
her  away,  but  was  comforted  knowing  that 
she  could  call  the  light  to  her  side. 

"*I  will  look  for  her/  he  said. 

"'Why?' 

"'Because  I  loved  her  and  promised  her 
a  wolf -skin  blanket  and  a  pair  of  moccasins/ 

"His  notion  of  justice  demanded  that  he 
should  see  her  again  so  that  he  might  pay 
his  debt  to  her. 

;'You  may  ask  how  it  was  that  with  his 
singular  power  he  failed  to  gain  possession 
of  our  store  of  knowledge.  I  answer,  that 
in  spite  of  us  he  did  acquire  much  of  it. 
But  you  must  know  that  I  and  my  friend 
were  skeptics.  We  had  minds  blank  of  all 
belief  as  to  the  First  Cause,  until  he  opened 


THE   MASTER 

our  eyes  a  little.  Then,  too,  we  had  dis 
covered  this  hindering  fact:  our  thoughts 
were  never  surely  conveyed  to  him  unK ^> 
we  uttered  them  in  a  sort  of  mental  whisper. 

"By  and  by  a  strange  thing  happened.  He 
found  the  prayer  of  the  world,  the  plan  of 
nature,  the  whisper  of  God  in  his  own  heart. 

"'My  master,'  he  said,  that  being  the 
title  which,  of  his  own  will,  he  gave  to  us, 
*  there  are  many  things  that  we  cannot  see 
with  our  eyes  or  hear  with  our  ears,  or  feel 
with  our  hands.  Now  I  know  that  beyond 
the  hills  yonder  there  are  men  and  houses, 
and  though  we  go  to  the  land's  end  there  is 
still  something  that  we  cannot  see  beyond  - 
houses  and  men,  maybe.  You  know  that 
I  have  better  eyes  and  ears  than  \<>u  have.  I 
see  colours  that  you  do  not,  and  sometimes 
I  play  so  softly  that  you  cannot  hear  the 
tones.  But  I  hear  them  and  they  are  wonder 
ful.  They  are  like  the  music  of  that  country 
beyond  the  land's  end.  I  think  that  the 
garden  of  our  Great  Master  is  there.  Do  you 
not  know  that  then4  is  a  Great  Master  who 
made  the  earth  and  the  sky  and  the  men  ? 
He  can  stand  on  a  mountain- top  and  li<:lit 
the  stars  and  blow  them  out  with  his  breath.' 

"We  taught  him  to  read  and  gave  him  the 


THE   MASTER  223 

Bible,  and  he  read  it  through  time  and 
again,  thrilled  by  its  story. 

"So,  briefly  —  for  there  is  much  that  I 
need  not  tell  —  he  found  his  way  into  the 
well-worn  path  and  led  us  with  him. 

"More  discoveries  have  come  and  of 
greater  value;  I  can  prove  to  you  that  one's 
thinking  makes  him.  It  shapes  his  soul 
and  his  body. 

"Once  the  nurse  had  had  a  fit  of  anger. 
For  a  day,  thereafter,  we  observed  that  her 
milk  seemed  to  poison  the  child.  It  sug 
gested  a  new  line  of  work  for  us.  We  began 
to  study  the  effects  of  thought  and  passion. 
I  have  seen  the  work  of  good  and  evil  in  the 
human  body.  The  one  weaves,  the  other 
ravels.  The  one  is  like  food,  the  other  like 
poison.  You  can  trace  evil  thoughts  into 
the  tissues  —  they  are  like  a  host  in  arms 
that  go  abroad,  burning  and  killing.  You 
may  see  their  line  of  march  with  a  microscope. 
Pure  and  noble  thoughts  —  such  as  one  may 
get  from  a  strain  of  music  —  have,  also, 
their  own  reaction.  You  may  even  follow 
them  into  the  blood  and  life  cells.  Give 
the  mind  enough  of  this  kind  of  thinking 
and  soon  you  shall  see  the  loom  of  life  pick 
up  its  threads  and  weave  them  into  the 


224  THE   MASTER 

body.  Proportions,  textures,  colours,  shape 
will  slowly  change.  You  shall  see  the  man 
grow  godlike  and  beautiful,  as  did  the  youth 
who  dwelt  with  us. 

"My  friend  began  to  lose  his  health  and 
saw  his  end  coming,  and  sent  Vincent  to 
bring  your  father.  We  were  both  growing 
old.  The  time  wa>  nearing  when  he  would 
be  left  alone  and  all  the  world  new  to  him  - 
save  this  little  paradise.  Oh,  then,  we  began 
to  feel  about  for  our  brother-." 

Gabriel  Horton  knocked  tin-  a^lirs  from  his 
pipe  and  sat  looking  into  the  fire.  I  waited 
for  a  moment  and  he  turned  and  added : 

14  The  end  of  the  story  I  cannot  tell  you, 
for  God  only  knows  what  it  will  be." 

"Is  the  young  man  with  you?*' 

He  rose  and  turned  to  me  and  whispered: 

*  We  shall  try  to  find  him.    But  my  friend !  you 

are  weary.    Come,  I  will  take  you  to  your  bed." 

He  lighted  a  candle  and  led  me  to  a  large 
chamber,  supplied  with  chairs,  table,  and 
bed,  neatly  fashioned,  of  woven  fibre  and 
young  spruce.  The  bed  of  soft  feathers 
and  its  cover  of  light  fur  invited  me  to  rest, 
and  put  me  in  mind  of  my  weariness,  and  the 
house  of  my  brain  closed  and  its  light  went 
out  before  I  touched  the  pillow. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

1WAS  awakened  next  day  by  loud  voices 
and  the  roar  of  a  rifle.  I  rose  and 
stared  about,  my  brain  shaking  off  its  dreams 
like  a  dog  coming  out  of  water.  Sunlight 
was  streaming  in  at  the  window.  My  watch 
told  me  that  I  had  slept  some  sixteen  hours. 
It  was  nearing  five  in  the  afternoon.  I  sprang 
out  of  bed  and  found  a  large  wooden  tub 
filled  with  water,  ready  for  my  bath.  I 
dressed  hurriedly  and  went  to  the  large  hall 
in  which  I  had  talked  with  Gabriel  Horton. 
Its  front  door  was  open,  and  I  stepped  out 
upon  a  veranda  overlooking  the  lake  and  a 
long,  wooded  valley  and  distant  mountains. 
Horton  stood  near  in  a  garden  of  flowers. 
He  greeted  me  warmly  and  asked: 

"Were  others  with  you?" 

"A  guide  and  one  other  man,"  I  said. 
"I  have  not  yet  told  my  story  and  perhaps 
I  had  better  begin." 

"First,  a  little  refreshment,"  said  he.  "I 
know  you  are  hungry." 

I  followed  him  into  the  hall  where  he  sat 


226  THE   MASTER 

down  beside  me  at  the  table,  and  snapped 
a  long  viol  string,  drawn  taut  in  a  wooden 
bow,  that  hung  from  the  ceiling.  Its  deep 
tone  rang  through  the  house  timbers  and, 
presently,  an  Indian  entered  with  food  on 
a  wooden  salver.  I  began  my  story,  but 
had  finished  eating  before  I  was  half  done 
with  it.  Gabriel  Horton  interrupted  me  by 
saying: 

"I  have  a  man  in  a  tree  near  the  lookout. 
He  may  be  one  of  your  friends  and,  if  so, 
we  must  release  him  at  once.  It's  a  small. 
gray-bearded  man  who  swore  like  a  pirale 
and  called  me  'Cappy." 

"Rone,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  the  thought 
of  him  was  like  an  ache  in  my  bones. 

"He  helped  me  in  my  search  for  you,"  I 
stammered  in  a  kind  of  panic. 

'Then  we  shall  bring  him  here,"  said 
Horton,  as  he  rose  and  took  his  rifle  from 
the  wall. 

\Ve  hurried  through  the  garden  and  the 
maze  of  thickets,  and  soon  heard  the  familiar 
voice  of  the  Cap'n. 

"Ahoy,  mates!"  he  shouted  from  the  upper 
branches  of  a  small  tree.  "I've  hit  the  rocks 
an'  gone  to  the  top  horse." 

The   tree   was   swaying   under   his   weight 


THE   MASTER 

like  a  mast  in  a  gale  of  wind.  A  bear  that 
was  chained  at  the  foot  of  it  was  looking  up 
and  sniffing  and  growling  as  if  he  shared  the 
fears  of  the  Cap'n. 

"Give  a  hand,  mates/'  Rog  Rone  called 
with  an  oath,  as  we  came  near  the  tree.  "I 
say.  cappy,  p'int  off  a  mile  or  so  with  this 
'ere  bear  an'  anchor  him." 

"We'll  do  our  best  for  you,"  I  answered, 
as  Horton  led  the  bear  away,  "but  I  must 
remind  you  that  swearing  is  out  of  place 
here." 

"An'  me  with  a  pain  in  my  sny,"  he 
complained. 

Rone  came  to  the  ground  with  surprising 
agility  in  view  of  his  age  and  lameness. 
Horton  had  left  with  the  bear. 

Old  Rog  sat  down,  his  hand  on  his  sny 
and  groaned  as  I  had  seen  him  do  more 
than  once  since  our  journey  began. 

"Hell's  bells!  The  goose  is  gone,  cappy, 
an'  I'm  starvink  —  so  I  am,"  Rone  com 
plained.  "I'm  empty  as  a  rum  bar'l  after 
a  long  cruise." 

I  gave  him  a  hand  and  he  got  to  his  feet 
slowly  and  peered  about  him,  his  uptilted  nose 
lifting  a  little  in  a  squint  that  seemed  to 
express  hope,  pain,  and  curiosity,  all  at  once. 


228  THE   MASTER 

"Dear  child!  -  I'm  glad  ye've  found  yer 
poor  uncle,"  he  grunted,  as  he  picked  up 
his  cane. 

I  gave  no  heed  to  his  palaver  and  thought 
that  I  had  best  wait  for  further  knowledge 
and  a  more  convenient  season  before  I  should 
speak  of  my  uncle's  death. 

'You  steer  me  into  port,  matey,  and  I'll  load 
the  ship,"  said  Rog  Rone,  as  lie  winked  slyly. 

I  was  in  sad  fear  of  what  was  coming, 
for  he  had  earned  his  hire  and  it  was  not  for 
me  to  stay  him. 

"Ho!  ho!"  the  old  man  laughed  in  a  low 
chuckle,  as  he  clung  to  my  arm  and  limped 
along  the  garden  walk  with  his  cane;  "this 
'ere  is  wonderful  ti<ly." 

In  a  moment  he  whispered:  "He  must 
have  a  saift  full  o'  gold." 

Gabriel  Horton  met  us  on  the  veranda 
and  greeted  the  old  wretch  with  a  kindly 
but  thoughtful  look  in  his  face.  The  Cap'n 
had  seemed  to  forget  his  pain  and  whistled, 
as  he  looked  down  the  valley,  and,  climbing 
the  steps,  exclaimed: 

"All  hands  to  the  hurrikin  deck!" 

We  sat  down,  and  he  wiped  his  brow, 
saying,  as  he  gave  our  host  a  playful  tap  with 
his  cane:  "Glad  t'  see  ye,  cappy,  an'  it's 


THE  MASTER  229 

been  a  very  particular  hard  v'yage  with  no 
sun  an'  the  wind  ag'in  us." 

He  lifted  his  stiff  leg  to  the  railing  and 
settled  comfortably  in  his  chair,  and  said, 
"If  you  happen  to  have  a  snack  o'  meat  an' 
maybe  a  noggin  o'  gin  or  rum  or  whisky, 
I'll  tighten  my  stays  a  little." 

Horton  left  us  and  soon  returned  with 
corn-cakes  and  jerked  venison  and  a  bottle 
of  currant  wine. 

Rone  smelt  the  bottle  and  held  it  up  to 
the  light  with  a  serious  and  critical  eye. 

"Cur'nt  wine!"  he  exclaimed  with  a  look 
of  disappointment.  "Soun's  like  sassyparilF 
—  so  it  does,  but  it  takes  holt  as  if  it 
knowed  me." 

"It  is  old  and  strong,"  Horton  said,  "and 
needs  the  label  of  caution." 

Rone  ate  like  a  dog  and  then  talked 
incessantly.  He  had  mistaken  Horton  for 
my  uncle  and  we  let  him  talk. 

"As  I  said  afore,"  he  began,  "we've  had 
a  partic'lar  hard  v'yage  —  me  an'  yer  nephey, 
an'  he  a  fryin'  all  the  way  'bout  his  dear 
uncle  an'  me  a  soothink  of  him,  which  I 
wisht  anybody  would  do  the  same  t'  me  if 
they  seen  me  in  such  a  trouble. 

"I  alwus  puts  myself  in  his  place,  as  the 


230  THE   MASTER 


book  says  —  so  I  do.  I  never  could 
lx«ar  t'  see  nobody  suffer  an*  me  able  t'  help 
it  —  not  me,  not  if  1  was  to  he  hung  for  it. 
His  sorrer  hit  me  like  a  rope's  end.  He  hadn't 
no  chart  er  compass  er  any  think  but  them 
letters  which  he  seen  on  the  slate,  an'  didn't 
know  his  port,  an'  ev'rv  time  he'd  think  o' 
you  he'd  set  an'  cry  like  a  baby.  Oh,  he's 
a  lovely  boy!  'No,  sir,'  he  says,  'I  don't 
play  cards,'  he  says  whenever  I  asts  him, 
an'  he  won't  touch  a  drop  o'  anythink 
stronger  'n  water,  an'  I  never  knowed  him  t' 
say  a  word  that  wra'n't  fit  t'  be  heard  in 
comp'ny,  an'  he  don't  talk  too  much  -got 
a  wonderful  eddication  but  nobody  'd  c\<  T 
know  it.  I  says  to  him,  'Look  a  here,'  I 
says,  Til  tow  ye  in  an'  God  spares  my  life. 
so  I  will.'  An'  he  says:  'I  ain't  <mt  no 
money'  kind  o'  like  that.  An'  I  says, 
'Never  mind,'  says  I.  'Prob'ly  yer  dear 
ol'  uncle  will  give  ye  suthink,  which  he'd 
be  dreadful  mean  if  he  didn't,  an'  you  give 
me  a  little,  an'  I'll  be  satisfied,'  says  I.  An' 
I've  brought  him  here  by  dead  reck'nin. 
with  a  sny  in  my  leg  an'  iron-sick  an'  down 
by  the  heel,  an'  head,  an'  the  wind  agin  n». 
which  he'll  tell  ye  —  if  ye  ast  him,  an'  that's 
as  true  as  the  holy  book." 


THE   MASTER  231 

He  turned  with  a  furtive  wink  at  me. 

A  silence  rather  impressive,  as  I  think  of 
it,  followed  this  bit  of  pettifogging. 

"This  is  Mr.  Horton,"  I  said  to  him. 
"My  uncle  is  dead." 

Rog  Rone  smote  his  knee  with  his  fist. 

"Dead!  Hell's  bells!"  he  exclaimed.  "Did 
he  leave  the  boy  any  money  ?" 

Mr.  Horton  made  no  answer  but  sat  looking 
sternly  at  the  Cap'n. 

Rone  turned  upon  him  rather  impatiently 
and  said:  "I'd  like  t'  know  if  this  dear  child 
is  goink  t'  git  nothink  at  all.  Wai,  now, 
we'll  see  about  that  an'  I  wouldn't  wonder." 

Gabriel  Horton  sat  looking  ominously  into 
the  face  of  Rone. 

"I  think  we  shall  be  able  to  do  without 
your  help  in  the  matter,"  he  said  calmly. 

I  could  restrain  myself  no  longer,  for  my 
heart  was  afire  with  shame  and  out  came 
my  story  in  a  rush  of  words.  I  told  how  I 
had  met  the  Cap'n,  how  I  had  been  gagged 
and  bound  and  put  in  a  sack  and  dumped  in 
the  river;  how  Rone  had  picked  me  up  and 
taken  me  aboard  the  Susq,  where  next  day 
I  found  myself  in  a  bunk.  I  told  of  my 
compact  with  him,  but  said  nothing  of  my 
fear  of  foul  play,  and  gave  him  the  benefit 


232  THE   MASTER 

of  every  possible  doubt,  and  was  so  generous 
in  all  of  my  talk  of  him  that  I  am  sure  if 
Cap'n  Larriper  had  been  present  she  would 
have  boxed  my  ears  and  taken  the  floor 
from  me. 

"As  to  myself,  I  came  here  hoping  only 
that  I  might  serve  my  uncle  in  some  way," 
I  said  in  conclusion.  "For  his  money  I 
care  not  the  snap  of  my  finger.  1  have  no 
wish  nor  need  for  it.  Cap'n  Rone  took  his 
chances  and  based  his  hope  wholly  on  the 
words  of  the  mute  messenger.  He  has  been 
most  ingenious  in  the  search.  Without  his 
help  I  could  not  have  found  you." 

"We  shall  reward  him,  but  I  care  little 
for  this  man,"  said  Gabriel  Horton  as  he 
rose  and  paced  the  veranda.  "He  has  your 
money  in  his  pocket  now." 

Rog  Rone  turned  quickly,  his  hands 
trembling,  and  said  in  a  whining,  frightened 
tone:  "I  never  seen  er  teched  his  money, 
cappy,  'pon  my  word  I  didn't." 

Gabriel  Horton  gave  as  little  heed  to  him 
as  he  gave  to  the  creak  of  the  floor  under 
his  feet.  "He  will  be  as  unhappy  here  as 
the  devil  in  paradise,"  he  answered  presently. 

The  old  gentleman  led  me  aside  soon  and 
said:  "Leave  the  man  to  me.  I'll  give 


THE   MASTER  233 

him  a  scare  that  will  move  him  out  of  this 
country.  Anything  that  he  can't  explain 
will  be  apt  to  worry  the  old  knave,  and  I've 
got  a  pretty  surprise  for  him." 

Night  was  falling  and  an  Indian  was 
building  a  fire  on  a  low,  broad  rock  that 
stood  a  foot  or  so  above  the  garden  level 
near  the  brink  of  the  cliff,  and  some  fifty 
yards  in  front  of  us.  The  lake  shone  like 
a  polished  floor  in  the  valley,  and  wre  could 
see  the  sky  and  feathery  pine-tops  and  the 
light  of  our  fire  in  it.  We  sat  in  silence  a 
little  while  and  watched  the  leaping  flames. 
Rone,  who  had  been  put  out  of  his  course 
and  worried  by  the  frankness  of  Gabriel 
Horton,  knew  not  what  to  say,  I  fancy.  He 
sat  tapping  the  floor  lightly  with  his  cane. 

"We  expect  friends  to-night,  and  this  is 
our  beacon  fire,"  said  Horton.  "Come,  let 
us  go  and  sit  by  it." 

An  Indian  brought  us  fur  robes,  for  the 
night  was  coming  cold,  and  we  took  one  of 
the  garden  paths  and  Rone  followed  close 
behind  me  and  tried  to  whisper  in  my  ear, 
but  I  would  not  listen.  I  stepped  to  the 
cliff's  edge  and  saw  how  sheer  the  rocks 
fell  to  the  water  far  below.  My  host  and  I 
sat  on  a  rustic  settle,  and  Rone  near  us  in 


234  THE   MASTER 

the  warm  glow  of  the  fire,  and  the  darkness 
fell  fast  so  that  we  could  see  nothing  beyond 
the  flames  in  a  little  time.  An  owl,  in 
a  near  tree-top,  filled  the  silence  with  its 
weird  (iy.  The  Cap'n  turned  suddenly  and 
muttered  an  oath. 

"It's  the  voice  of  a  lonely  spirit,"  said 
Horton.  "This  little  isle  of  the  sky  is 
haunted." 

"By  whom?"  I  asked. 

"The  ghosts  of  the  dead." 

It  was  amusing  then  to  see  the  old  Cap'n 
incline  his  head  and  listen  as  Gabriel  Horton 
went  on: 

"The  ghosts  of  the  murdered  dwell  here 
for  a  time  after  death.  Often  we  hear  their 
voices  in  the  woods  after  nightfall,  and  they 
wail  like  that." 

The  old  gentleman  gave  a  long  weird 
cry  that  rang  in  the  still  forest  and  died 
away  in  distant  echoes.  It  was  answered 
by  another  cry  that  rose  half  a  mile  or  so 
behind  the  camp,  I  should  say,  and  travelled 
far  and  wide  in  wonderful  echoes. 

"And  if  any  come  here  who  has  shed 
human  blood  the  spirit  of  his  victim  will 
appear  to  him  and  take  revenge,"  said 
Gabriel  Horton  in  a  low,  solemn  voice. 


THE   MASTER  235 

"Hell's  bells!"  I  heard  Rone  mutter  as 
he  leaned  toward  us  on  his  cane,  his  hands 
trembling. 

Horton  continued:  "Some  nights  I  think 
that  I  can  hear  the  voice  of  the  old  master, 
and  the  sound  of  his  violin  up  in  the  air 
above  the  housetop.  Those  old  pines  have 
heard  the  music  so  long  that  they  seem  to 
remember  it.  Listen!  Do  you  not  hear  the 
sound?" 

I  did  hear  it,  or  thought  I  did  —  some 
thing  like  a  distant  song  in  the  heavens  — 
and  so  declared. 

"I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see  him  walk 
into  the  firelight,  here,  in  the  old  familiar  way." 

"What!  Spooks?  —  is  it  spooks  ye  mean, 
cappy?"  said  Rog  Rone,  as  he  moved  a  little 
nearer. 

Horton  disregarded  the  query  and  went 
on:  "He  left  here  to  find  Vincent  and  wrote 
to  me  from  Liverpool  that  he  had  learned 
of  his  brother's  death.  He  said  that  nobody 
seemed  to  know  where  you  were." 

We  talked  on  for  some  moments  and 
presently  Cap'n  Rog  rose  and  raised  his  cane 
as  if  to  defend  himself. 

"My  God!"  he  muttered,  "I'm  out  o' 
all  soundinks.  I'm  in  a  harl." 


236  THE   MASTER 

He  was  looking  over  our  heads  at  some 
object  behind  us.  I  turned  and  saw  a 
figure  approaching,  in  a  long  white  robe. 
It  strode  slowly,  silently  into  the  firelight. 
I  was  dumb  with  amazement,  for  I  saw  Ben 
Lovel  approaching  in  a  long  coat  of  white 
fur.  A  rope  was  wound  about  him  at  the 
belt.  Its  end  was  noosed  and  came  over 
his  shoulder  and  he  swung  it  in  his  hand. 

Rone  had  drawn  a  burning  stick  from  the 
fire  and  was  whirling  its  flame  about  him 
for  a  charm,  I  fancy.  I  can  well  understand 
his  terror  now,  for  he  thought  that  the  young 
man  was  dead  and  that  his  spirit  had  come 
down  to  vex  him.  Without  a  word,  Ben  Lovel 
approached  Rone,  the  noose  swaying  in  his 
hand. 

The  Cap'n  backed  away,  shouting  as  he 
waved  the  firebrand: 

"Keep  off!  keep  off,  I  tell  ye.  I  ain't 
done  nothink  at  all  - 

His  speech  ended  in  a  cry  and  down  he 
clattered  with  a  number  of  loose  stones  from 
the  brink  of  the  isle,  and  I  saw  the  flash  of 
his  torch  in  the  black  gulf  below,  and  heard 
the  crack  of  his  bones  on  the  cliff-side,  and 
the  plunge  and  thud  of  his  body  growing 
fainter  as  he  hurtled  over  the  steep  benches, 


THE  MASTER  237 

and  bounded  from  the  last  of  them  and 
splashed  in  the  water,  far  down  at  the  valley's 
level.  Then  the  hiss  of  his  torch  as  it  struck 
and  floated. 

It  reminded  me  of  that  line  from  Milton: 

"Him  the  Almighty  Power  hurled,  headlong,  flaming  from 
the  ethereal  Sky." 

All  stood  looking  into  the  darkness  and  for 
half  a  moment  no  word  was  spoken.  The 
shoemaker  broke  the  silence. 

"'The  guilty  flee  when  no  man  pursueth,'" 
he  quoted  in  a  low,  sad  voice. 

He  touched  Horton's  arm  and  added: 
"I  would  not  have  harmed  a  hair  of  his 
head.  Let  the  men  go  look  for  him.  They 
may  take  my  rope  and  go  over  the  south 
edge." 

He  unwound  the  rope  from  his  body  and 
turned  and  embraced  me  and  whispered: 
"O,  my  master!  I  have  a  full  heart.  Come, 
let  us  go  into  the  house." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PAIN  had  left  its  mark  on  the  noble  face 
of  my  friend.  He  was  pale  and  a 
scar  on  his  right  temple  showed  where  the 
cruel  weapon  had  battered  his  bones.  Now 
that  I  knew  him  to  be  the  son  of  my  uncle, 
and  the  great  teacher  in  this  lonely  school 
of  the  wild,  diverse  mysteries  of  my  later 
life  began  to  vanish.  I  understood  how  it 
was  that  he  had  known  me  and  Condon, 
and  the  crowd  of  the  Council  Chamber, 
including  Rone  and  his  stealthy  crew,  as 
one  knows  himself.  Silently  I  walked  beside 
him  with  a  sense  of  awe  in  me.  He  seemed 
to  be  aware  of  it,  for  suddenly  he  said: 

"My  master,  Horton,  has  been  telling  you 
strange  things,  and  I  hope  that  they  will 
not  make  you  love  me  less.  I  have  much 
and  I  thank  my  Great  Father  for  it,  yet  I 
am  one  who  must  give  all  for  my  happiness. 
I  find  the  call  of  my  task  everywhere,  and 
the  peace  that  you  have  is  not  forme.  The 
eyes  of  men  do  not  reach  out  and  pluck 
your  sleeve  as  you  pass  them.  You  have 


THE   MASTER  239 

only  to  go  your  way  and  obey  the  call  of 
your  heart,  and  that  is  enough  for  you.  I 
am  as  one  with  a  million  brothers,  and  their 
troubles  afflict  me." 

I  went  into  the  house  and  sat  on  rugs 
of  wolf-skin,  before  the  fire,  with  him,  know 
ing  now  what  burdens  of  responsibility  had 
grown  out  of  his  power.  As  he  sat  in  the 
firelight  he  finished  the  story  of  our  last 
night  at  the  shop  in  Kerrigan  Place. 

The  first  blow  of  our  stealthy  foes  had 
felled  the  man,  Crabtree.  He  had  suffered 
no  serious  hurt  and  during  the  struggle  had 
crawled  under  the  bed,  where  he  lay  con 
cealed  until  the  helpers  of  Rone  had  driven 
away  with  their  burden.  Then  he  came 
out  of  hiding  and  ran  for  help,  leaving  the 
door  open.  He  returned  with  an  officer  who 
dragged  my  friend  into  the  open  air  and 
summoned  an  ambulance.  The  little  shoe 
maker  was  near  death,  but  drugs  and  careful 
nursing  and  his  own  will  to  live  had  revived 
him. 

Condon  was  on  his  way  to  Hamburg,  and 
Lovel  had  said  nothing  of  the  deadly  assault, 
preferring  to  deal  with  the  guilty  according 
to  his  own  plans.  He  had  sent  for  Crab- 
tree  and  bade  him  hold  his  tongue,  and  the 


240  THE   MASTER 

latter  had  agreed  to  do  so  for  a  payment  of 
twenty  dollars,  that  being  his  appraisal  of 
the  damage  to  his  own  head  which  was 
hardly  able  "to  fetch  a  rhyme,"  as  he  had 
gravely  declared  to  my  cousin. 

After  a  week  in  bed  Lovel  had  set  out 
for  his  early  home  to  rest  and  escape  further 
perils. 

When  he  was  done  with  the  telling  of  all 
this,  he  put  his  hand  on  my  arm  and  said: 
"My  master,  we  must  be  going.  We  shall 
begin  the  journey  to-morrow,  for  now  I  am 
reminded  of  one  who  will  need  you  sorely." 

I  looked  into  his  eyes,  my  own  full  of 
wonder,  I  doubt  not. 

"Ruth  needs  you,  and  we  should  make 
haste,"  he  added. 

"Have  you  heard  from  her?" 

"No,  but  my  heart  tells  me  that  every  day 
will  increase  her  trouble.  You  will  need 
money,  and  I  have  some  in  my  keeping 
that  is  rightly  yours." 

"I  need  a  little  for  my  journey,  for  I  have 
nothing  now,"  was  my  answer.  "If  it  be 
more  than  a  small  sum  I  beg  you  to  keep 
it  for  your  task." 

"I  eat  the  bread  of  toil,"  he  said,  "and 
have  small  need  of  money.  This,  that  m\ 


THE   MASTER  241 

father  bade  me  deliver  in  his  name  when 
I  should  find  you,  I  have  kept  longer  than 
I  liked,  knowing  how  it  may  rob  the  strong 
and  judging  poverty  the  safer  thing  for  you. 
Now,  at  last,  I  shall  ask  my  cousin  to  take 
his  stewardship.  You  have  not  forgotten 
the  letter  that  I  gave  you  to  be  opened,  if 
any  harm  befell  me  —  the  letter  that  was 
stolen?" 

"No,"  I  answered  with  keen  interest. 

"In  that  letter  I  directed  you  to  this  isle 
of  the  sky,  and  inclosed  a  brief  account  of 
it.  I  advised  you  to  find  Gabriel  Horton 
or  his  brother,  in  the  event  of  his  death,  and 
learn  of  things  to  your  advantage.  Rone 
had  all  this  in  his  hands,  and  for  that  reason 
he  spared  your  life  and  brought  you  here 
to  us.  He  strove  to  get  you  in  his  power, 
so  that  you  would  propose  to  share  your 
earthly  goods  with  him,  for  he  knew  their 
value  and  where  to  find  them.  With  you 
in  his  hands  the  task  was  not  difficult.  Rone 
was  a  cunning  man." 

He  sat  long,  telling  me  of  his  will  to  return 
to  the  little  shop,  and  help  Condon  in  a  new 
trouble  that  would  soon  be  coming.  He 
paused  and  I  put  a  query  which  had  jostled 
into  my  thoughts. 


242  THE   MASTER 

"How  comes  it  that  your  name  is  Lovel?" 
I  asked. 

"It  was  the  wish  of  my  father  that  I  should 
bear  my  mother's  name,  for  he  loved  to 
think  that  I  had  her  spirit  in  me,  so  my 
master,  Morton,  has  said.  Her  name  was 
Benjamina  Lovel,  and  he  called  her  Ben. 
I  knew  not  until  my  return  here  that  my 
name  was  Holm." 

A  little  after  midnight  Horton  entered 
the  room  and  said:  "  \Ye  have  found  the 
captain  in  five  fathoms  of  water  at  the  foot 
of  the  cliff,  and  given  him  a  decent  burial. 
I  have  brought  his  jacket  with  me;  I  think 
that  your  money  is  here." 

He  pointed  at  a  pocket,  closed  with 
stitches,  in  the  lining  of  the  old  brown  velvet 
waistcoat  which  the  Cap'n  had  worn.  It 
was  now  torn,  and  wet  with  lake  water.  He 
lighted  a  number  of  candles,  and  we  sat 
down  together  at  the  table  where  I  had 
eaten,  and  in  half  a  moment  our  good  friend 
had  ripped  this  treasure  pocket  of  the  Cap'n 
with  his  hunting  knife.  Out  came  a  number 
of  odd  trinkets  and  three  sealed  envelopes, 
and  a  lady's  lace  handkerchief,  now  worn 
and  crumpled.  There  were  cheap  finger- 
rings  and  some  unset  jewels  in  a  little  buck- 


THE   MASTER  243 

skin  sack.  The  envelopes  were  labeled  as 
follows:  "Forty  the  pipin,"  "41  the  Coun- 
s'ler,"  and  "Bisnis." 

"Your  money  is  in  one  of  these,"  said 
Gabriel  Horton.  "We  must  open  them." 

"He  often  called  me  pippin,"  I  suggested, 
as  I  looked  at  the  envelope  which  bore  the 
misspelled  word. 

Within  it  we  found  the  exact  sum  which 
I  had  drawn  from  my  bank  the  morning 
of  that  last  day  of  mine  in  New  York.  I 
had  planned  to  take  it  with  me  to  my  new 
home  whither,  it  will  be  remembered,  I  had 
been  about  to  go  with  Israel  Horton. 

The  envelope  labelled,  "41  the  Couns'ler," 
contained  a  small  sum  of  money  and  an  old 
ring  of  wrought  gold,  which  had  been  taken 
from  Ben  Lovel. 

"This  is  the  most  important  of  all,"  said 
Gabriel,  as  he  ripped  the  "Bisnis"  envelope 
with  a  slash  of  his  hunting  knife;  "here 
we  may  look  for  something  of  value." 

Within  it  were  folded  sheets  of  paper  of 
varying  size,  all  torn  from  old  account- 
books  —  save  one  —  the  letter  of  my  cousin, 
which  Rone  had  taken  from  my  trunk  at  the 
Silver  Mug.  The  other  sheets  contained 
memoranda,  which  we  were  not  able  to 


244  THE   PIASTER 

understand,  and  a  letter  quite  plainly  written, 
as  follows: 

"Ol  Cap  I  no  what  ver  up  to,  an'  I  wish 
ye  good  luck.  I  seen  a  letter  that  says  ol 
unkle  has  got  mutiny,  an'  I'll  meet  ye  up  in 
the  woods  for  to  help  with  the  pippin.  When 
ye  hear  five  raps  of  a  woodpecker  like  that 

youl   no  it's  me.     That  bisnis   I 

went  for  to  see  to  turned  out  good.     If  you 
play  honest  I  will  share." 

I  suspected  at  once  that  the  above  com 
munication  was  from  Bill  Horkins,  and  that 
it  related  to  our  journey  into  the  woods.  I 
asked  myself  if  it  were  possible  that  my 
letter  to  Ruth  had  fallen  into  his  hands.  If 
so,  of  course,  it  had  never  reached  her. 

While  these  thoughts  were  disturbing  me, 
Gabriel  Horton  had  found  a  curious  paper 
and  spread  it  on  the  table.  It  contained 
first,  the  war  sign  of  the  Toilers'  Chain,  and 
this  jumble  of  words  and  figures,  written 
neatly  in  a  German  hand: 

38  blow  flick  coffer  10  Awful  sanger 
king  frill  night  number  42  Disturb, 
blow  sing  out  overhead  wilderness,  sor 
row  blow  friendship  peace  all  memory 
coffer  14  geranium 

Rex. 


THE  MASTER  245 

"It  is  a  cipher  and  may  be  of  great  value," 
said  Ben  Lovel  as  he  bent  over  the  paper. 
"It  relates,  I  think,  to  that  evil  business  of 
the  radicals  and  I  shall  learn  how  to  read  it." 

The  other  papers  contained  memoranda 
with  little  promise  of  value  to  us. 

"On  your  way  south  you  had  best  report 
the  accident,  and  present  this  jacket  and  all 
we  have  found  upon  it  to  the  authorities  in 
Quebec,"  said  Gabriel. 

"But,  first,  I  will  make  a  copy  of  this 
cipher  message,"  said  my  cousin.  "It 
troubles  me  and  I  fear  that  we  ought  to 
make  haste.  Let  us  go  to  our  beds  and 
be  up  at  dawn,  and  on  the  trail  at  sunrise." 

He  bade  us  good  night  and  left  me  in 
grave  doubt  of  his  meaning,  and  with  his 
blanket  and  pillow  went  out  of  doors  where, 
under  great  pines  that  flanked  the  garden, 
he  had  been  wont  to  sleep  in  fair  weather. 

Gabriel  Horton  went  with  me  to  my 
room,  and  said  before  he  left  me: 

"The  old  pirate  was  badly  broken  up 
and  I  must  tell  you  the  thoughts  that  came 
to  me  as  I  put  my  hands  upon  him.  'His 
loom  had  only  threads  of  evil  to  work  with. 
It  wove  neither  man  nor  beast  but  a  thing 
made  to  give  and  receive  violence  —  a  kind 


246  THE   MASTER 

of  devil  with  the  eyes  of  a  hawk  and  the 
brow  of  a  monkey  and  the  stealth  of  a  cat, 
and  a  great  fear  in  him  of  the  souls  he  had 
sent  away.  Compare  him  with  this  son 
of  light,  who  is  here  with  us,  and  you  will 
find  a  lesson  as  great  as  the  gulf  that  lies 
between  them." 

But  there  were  others  who  claimed  my 
first  thoughts,  and  especially  one  who  was, 
no  doubt,  thinking  very  ill  of  me. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  boom  of  the  viol  string  awakened 
me.  Through  pine-tops  I  could  see  the 
dawn-light  in  the  sky,  as  I  dressed,  and 
found  my  cousin  and  his  lifelong  companion 
in  the  hall  of  the  Hermitage.  The  packs 
were  ready  and  the  fire  blazing,  and  an 
Indian  had  spread  our  breakfast  on  the 
table. 

"The  sky  is  clear  and  we  shall  have  a 
fine  day  in  the  woods,  my  master,"  said 
Ben  Lovel  as  he  shook  my  hand.  "I  wish 
we  might  keep  you  here  and  show  you  this 
little  world  in  the  sky." 

"Oh,  but  he  will  return,"  said  Gabriel 
Horton,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  smile  and 
added:  "It's  a  good  place  for  a  honeymoon." 

"I've  been  thinking  of  that,"  I  answered. 

"Well,  say  to  her  and  my  brother  that 
they  will  be  welcome  here." 

A  little  before  sunrise  we  descended  the 
cliff,  with  two  Indians  to  carry  the  packs 
for  us,  and  went  to  the  south  end  of  the  lake 
in  canoes,  and  were  well  up  in  high  country 

247 


248  THE   MASTER 

before  a  sunbeam  had  touched  the  trail. 
We  had  fair  footing  and  perfect  weather 
and  were  near  thirty  miles  from  the  isle 
when  night  overtook  us.  We  camped  by  a 
little  brook,  some  ten  rods  from  the  trail, 
and  ate  our  suppers  without  a  fire  and 
Mlnitly,  for  at  dusk  my  cousin  had  warned 
us  to  do  no  talking.  lie  felt  sure  that  the 
friends  of  Rone  would  be  lying  in  unit 
somewhere  along  the  trail  "to  help  with  the 
pippin."  We  lay  back  to  rest  and  were 
suddenly  startled  by  the  woodpecker  signal, 
that  rang  faintly  in  the  darkened  woods 
from  a  point  half  a  mile  or  so  down  the  trail. 
in  the  way  we  were  heading.  Tap-tap-tap, 
tap-tap  it  sounded,  exactly  as  Horkins's  letter 
had  spaced  it. 

We  rose  to  our  feet,  and  my  cousin 
whispered:  'The  knaves  are  near  us. 
Come,  we  will  post  our  sentinels." 

He  whispered  for  a  moment  to  the  Indians, 
and  all  tiptoed  to  the  trail.  There  Lovel 
found  a  smooth  place  and  spread  a  blanket 
and  the  guides  lay  down  upon  it  by  their 
rifles,  and  drew  other  blankets  over  them. 
I  observed  that  they  lay  directly  across  the 
trail  so  that  one  passing  in  the  night  would 
be  sure  to  stumble  on  them. 


THE   MASTER  249 

"We  shall  have  new  company,"  said  my 
cousin,  as  we  returned  to  our  camp.  "They 
may  come  any  moment  and  we  must  not 
miss  them." 

I  hoped  that  he  would  say  more  of  our 
expected  company,  but  he  rolled  into  his 
blanket  and  lay  down  and  said  no  more  until 
we  heard  the  signal  again. 

"They  are  no  nearer  and  have  probably 
stopped  for  the  night,"  he  whispered. 

Soon  he  fell  asleep,  but  I  lay  and  listened 
a  long  time  for  that  weird  and  ominous 
rapping  in  the  forest. 

A  loud  cry  and  the  report  of  a  rifle  brought 
us  to  our  feet.  Dawn-light  was  falling 
through  the  treetops.  Ben  Lovel  seized  his 
rifle  and  passed  mine  to  me. 

"We  must  declare  war  at  once,"  he 
whispered.  "Follow  me  and  I  will  tell  you 
what  to  do,  my  master." 

We  ran  toward  the  trail  and  saw  the  Indians 
with  their  rifles  levelled  at  two  men,  who 
stood  near  them  with  their  hands  lifted  above 
their  heads.  As  we  came  closer  I  observed 
that  one  of  them  was  the  first  mate  of  the 
Susq  —  the  much  cursed  and  abominable 
Bill  Horkins.  The  other  was  a  hard-faced 
man  with  a  great,  rough-skinned  nose  and 


250  THE   MASTER 

black,  bristling  moustache,  whom  I  had 
seen  in  Rone's  company  at  the  councils  of 
the  Chain. 

"  Do  as  you  are  told  —  my  men  and  we 
shall  give  you  little  trouble,"  said  my  cousin 
as  we  came  near.  "You  will  stand  with  the 
guides,"  he  added,  turning  to  me,  "and  do 
not  fire  unless  I  bid  you  do  so." 

He  approached  the  cowardly  and  desperate 
men,  whose  hands  now  trembled  as  they 
looked  at  the  lifted  rifles,  and  said  to  them: 

"Men,  we  know  your  plans  and  will  take 
your  weapons,  if  you  please." 

In  half  a  moment  he  had  taken  two  pistols 
and  a  long  knife  from  each  and  flung  them 
on  the  moss  at  our  feet.  He  felt  in  all  their 
pockets,  and  removed  their  packs  and 
emptied  them,  but  found  only  some  cookies 
and  sandwiches  and  three  bottles  of  rum. 
These  he  broke  on  the  stones,  and  I  remember 
thinking  that  he  had  better  have  saved 
them,  for  the  day's  walk  had  wearied  us  and 
with  fifty  miles  of  hard  travel  ahead,  the 
sting  of  the  rum  might  bear  us  up  a  little. 
He  unloaded  the  pistols  and  broke  them 
and  the  knives  on  a  rock  and  flung  the 
fragments  into  a  thicket. 

'You  may  put  your  rifles  away,"  he  said 


THE   MASTER  251 

to  us,  and  to  our  prisoners:  "Sit  down,  my 
men.  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

Bill  Horkins  got  command  of  his  tongue 
at  last. 

"We  didn't  mean  ye  no  harm,  boss,  'fore 
Gawd,  we  didn't.  We  just  come  up  here 
fer  t'  roam  aroun'  an'  see  the  country,  while 
we  was  waitin'  fer  Cap'n  Rog,  an'  that's 
a  fact." 

"I  knew  not  that  you  were  in  Canada, 
Wagner,"  said  my  cousin,  addressing  the 
other  fellow.  "It  is  but  a  little  time  since 
I  saw  you  in  my  shop." 

The  man  who  had  been  looking  down,  with 
a  sullen  face,  lifted  his  head  quickly,  and  his 
eyes  met  those  of  Lovel,  and  turned  away. 

The  latter  pointed  at  them  with  his  finger, 
and  said  to  me: 

"These  are  the  two  who  struck  us  down 
in  the  darkness  and  who,  thinking  me  dead, 
came  here  to  help  the  captain  and  take 
their  share  of  your  money." 

The  men  changed  colour  and  put  their 
hands  to  the  ground  as  if  about  to  rise  and 
flee,  their  eyes  wide  with  astonishment.  In 
half  a  moment  Horkins  began  to  stammer: 

"I  —  I  —  I  never  seen  ye  before,  b  — boss, 
hope  to  die  if  I  did.  Gawd  knows  we  never 


THE   MASTER 

tried  to  do  ye  no  harm  —  neither  on*  us  — 
did  we,  Jim  Wagner?  I'd  swear  it  on 
a  stack  o'  Bibles  a  mile  high." 

Wagner  shook  his  head  and  spat  and 
gazed  at  the  thickets  with  a  look  of  injury, 
but  said  nothing. 

"Thieves!  liars!  murderers!"  said  my  cousin, 
with  stern  eyes  upon  them.  "My  Great  Father 
will  deal  with  you,  and  very  soon,  I  think." 

He  held  in  his  hand  the  waistcoat  of  Rog 
Rone,  and  the  cipher  letter  which  we  had 
found  in  its  pocket. 

'Your  master,  Rone,  is  gone  to  his  punish 
ment,"  said  Lovel.  "On  the  other  side  of 
the  mountains,  yonder,  his  broken  bones 
lie  buried  in  the  ground.  We  have  one  of 
his  secrets  here  and  you  will  know  its  meaning. 
Look  at  this  that  your  hand  has  written, 
Wagner.  Come  with  me  a  moment." 

The  man  rose  and  went  with  my  cousin 
a  few  paces  from  the  trail.  They  stood 
facing  each  other  for  sonic  five  minutes  and 
I  could  hear  them  talking  together  in  low 
tones,  but  not  a  word  of  what  they  were 
saying.  Once  I  saw  Lovel  put  his  hand 
under  the  chin  of  the  wretch  and  lift  his 
hanging  face  a  little. 

When  they  had  returned,  and  Wagner  had 


THE   MASTER  253 

sat  down  by  his  crony,  Lovel  called  me 
aside,  his  face  white  as  the  paper  on  which 
I  am  writing,  and  whispered: 

"I  see  it  all  clearly.  Two  are  marked 
for  death  on  the  sixteenth  of  September  — 
Horton,  the  millionaire,  and  my  master, 
Condon.  It  is  known,  I  suppose,  that  they 
will  be  together  that  day.  We  must  hurry 
or  we  shall  not  save  their  lives.  I  wish  to 
take  these  men  with  us,  if  possible,  for 
there  is  more  that  we  may  learn.  Come, 
we  have  hardly  four  days  for  our  journey." 

He  turned  to  the  Indians  and  addressed 
them  in  their  own  tongue.  They  gave  us 
their  rifles,  while  they  made  the  packs  ready 
with  all  haste,  and  we  were  watching  the 
others.  Soon  we  were  off  in  the  trail,  our 
prisoners  ahead  and  we  behind  them,  with 
our  rifles,  and  the  guides  close  at  our  heels. 
So  we  hurried  along  at  such  a  pace  that 
the  knaves  began  to  lag  and  hurl  oaths  at 
us,  and  before  midday  they  sat  down,  cursing, 
and  refused  to  go  any  farther.  We  were 
now  in  serious  trouble,  and  left  the  Indians 
on  guard,  and  went  down  the  trail  a  few 
paces  for  a  word  of  counsel  together. 

"Why  not  go  on  and  abandon  them?"  I 
suggested. 


254  THE   MASTER 

"It  will  give  them  a  chance  to  undo 
my  plans,"  he  answered.  "If  all  goes  well 
with  us  we  shall  draw  the  fangs  of  a  wrhole 
pack  of  them.  We  must  leave  these  men, 
but  keep  command  of  them.  The  Indians 
will  take  them  far  off  the  trail  and  detain 
them  where,  surrounded  by  the  mystery  of 
the  woods,  they  will  not  be  able  to  find 
their  way,  until  we  have  seen  my  master, 
Condon.  I  know  a  lonely  lake  where  they 
could  live  by  hunting  and  fishing." 

So,  after  my  cousin  had  talked  with  his 
guides  a  moment,  we  left  them  and  the 
others  sitting  comfortably  at  the  top  of  a  high 
hill,  and  resumed  our  journey.  We  walked 
fast  and  planned  to  travel  with  torches 
after  nightfall,  and  make  no  stop  until  \\  c 
could  rest  our  legs  in  a  steam-car.  Late  in 
the  afternoon  two  rifle  shots  came  echoing 
through  the  forest  from  a  point  not  half  a 
mile  behind  us.  \Ve  halted,  looking  back 
in  the  trail  and  listening,  but  heard  no  other 
sound. 

"I  wonder  what  that  may  mean,"  Lovel 
whispered.  "There's  a  hint  of  evil  in  it." 

He  gave  a  loud  halloo,  but  got  no  answer. 

"I  think  that  I  know  what  has  happened," 
he  said  presently.  "They  had  other  bottles 


THE   MASTER  255 

of  liquor  hidden  by  the  trail  somewhere.  We 
were  probably  near  it  when  they  refused 
to  go  on.  Our  Indians  have  tasted  the 
fire-water  and  that  would  undo  them.  I 
fear  that  they  have  lost  their  rifles  and  their 
lives  also." 

"It  may  be  hunters,"  I  suggested;  "or 
perhaps  the  Indians  were  shooting  at  some 
animal." 

I  observed  that  my  companion  was  worried. 
He  beckoned  to  me  and  we  walked  back  in 
the  trail  a  few  paces.  Suddenly  he  stopped, 
and  whispered: 

"We  must  go  on.  If  they  have  over 
powered  the  Indians  they  will  lie  in  wait 
for  us,  and  we  must  guard  our  lives,  my 
master,  for  the  sake  of  our  friends." 

We  hurried  along  until  our  mouths  were  dry 
with  thirst  and  came  to  a  little  brook  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening. 

It  had  cut  a  deep  gorge  below  us  and 
we  made  our  way  through  thickets  and  down 
to  the  water  level,  and  leaned  our  rifles  on 
the  rock  wall  and  drank  eagerly,  with  our 
mouths  in  the  ripples.  We  had  slaked  our 
thirst  and  lay  resting  in  a  covert  of  young 
pines,  and  suddenly  my  ear  caught  a  sound 
not  of  our  making.  It  was  like  the  tread 


256  TIIE   MASTER 

of  muffled  feet  in  the  trail,  and  if  we  had  not 
been  lying  with  our  heads  to  the  ground 
I  am  sure  we  would  not  have  heard  it.  Lovel 
rose  and  stepped  stealthily  into  the  open 
gorge,  and  I  followed  him.  In  the  dim 
light  we  could  discern  two  figures  moving 
noiselessly  up  the  trail  in  the  direction  whence 
we  had  come. 

"They  go  like  ghosts,"  Lovel  whispered, 
and,  indeed,  their  noiseless  feet  and  dim 
figures,  and  a  faint  sound  like  that  of  the 
rustle  of  skirts,  were  uncanny,  and  quickened 
my  heart  a  little.  Lovel  stepped  farther 
into  the  open,  straining  his  eyes.  In  half  a 
moment  the  dim  figures  vanished  in  the 
dusk  and  silence.  Suddenly  my  companion 
turned  to  me  and  whispered : 

"Let  us  get  the  rifles." 

The  dusk  had  thickened,  and  to  that 
circumstance,  I  doubt  not,  we  owed  our 
lives.  I  had  scarcely  lifted  my  foot  when, 
bang!  bang!  went  two  rifles,  not  fifty  feet 
away,  and  their  bullets  -ang  above  our 
heads  and  slapped  the  rocks  beyond  us. 
Our  enemy  had  aimed  too  high,  as  always 
happens  to  those  unaccustomed  to  ni^ht 
shooting. 

My    heart     skipped    a    beat    or    two,    and 


THE   MASTER  257 

Lovel  gave  my  arm  a  pull  and  I  understood 
him,  and  down  we  went  in  the  edge  of  the 
water  as  if  we  had  been  shot.  We  began  to 
crawl  toward  the  thicket,  but  our  enemy 
was  nearer  than  we  thought  and  would  be 
upon  us  before  we  could  make  half  the 
distance,  or  even  get  to  our  feet. 

At  the  same  instant  both  Lovel  and  I 
seemed  to  perceive  the  hopelessness  of  our 
plight,  and  sank  down  at  the  water's  edge 
like  men  who  are  dead.  I  had  no  doubt 
that  Horkins  and  Wagner  had  got  ahead 
of  us  and  had  been  lying  in  ambush,  and 
this  notion  flashed  upon  me:  If  they  thought 
us  dead  they  might  give  us  a  chance  to 
reach  our  rifles.  I  know  now  that  Lovel  had 
another  and  a  better  hope  in  his  mind,  and 
neither  moved  a  muscle. 

"We've  got  'em,"  said  the  voice  of  Bill 
Horkins  as  they  descended  the  rocks  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  gorge.  "If  ary  one  gives 
a  move  put  another  charge  in  him,  an' 
we'll  be  sure  this  time  —  so  we  will,  Jim 
Wagner.  I'm  goin'  t'  split  their  heads  open 
an'  cut  out  their  hearts  an'  burn  the  rest 
of  'em  hide  an'  hair,  and  sink  their  bones 
in  the  brook.  That's  five  deaths  an'  it 
orto  hold  'em  down.  Rog  Rone  is  out  o* 


258  THE   MASTER 

the  game  —  we  ain't  got  to  divvy  no  more 
with  him,  er  be  feared  o'  havin'  a  knife 
rammed  into  yer  back  some  day.  I  ain't 
took  a  dozen  steps  in  five  year  without  lookin' 
behind  me." 

They  had  come  close  and  I  was  about  to 
spring  up  and  fight  for  our  lives  when  two 
rifles  roared  just  behind  us  and  the  men 
fell  and  floundered  like  wounded  deer  in 
the  water.  In  a  second,  one  of  them  rose 
and  ran  in  the  bed  of  the  brook  and  presently 
sprang  into  the  thickets.  Then  I  heard  a 
voice  that  was  like  sunshine  breaking  the 
walls  of  night. 

"Run,  ye  brats  o'  hell,"  it  shouted. 

I  struggled  to  my  knees  and  saw  Wave 
Larriper  bending  over  me.  Lovel  had  risen 
and  picked  up  the  rifles  of  the  wounded 
men  which  had  fallen  near  us. 

"Poor  lads!  are  yez  hurled?"  'called 
the  voice  of  Cap'n  Larriper  from  the  top 
of  the  gorge. 

"No,"  I  answered. 

"Thank  God!  Come  out  o'  there  quick 
as  yez  can.  I'll  stand  here  with  me  rifle 
and  take  a  crack  at  the  villains  if  they  come 
back." 

We  clambered  to  the  top  of  the  gorge. 


THE   MASTER  259 

Lovel  took  Wave's  hand  in  his  and  turned 
to  me  and  said: 

"This  is  she  I  befriended  that  night  we 
rode  with  the  Colonel.  It  is  she  who  could 
hardly  be  forgiven  by  any  of  her  brothers 
in  this  great  family  of  ours." 

He  spoke  very  tenderly  and  dried  her 
eyes  with  his  handkerchief,  for  she  stood 
sobbing  at  his  side. 

Then  he  took  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Larriper 
and  said: 

"Good   mother!     I   knew    that    you    were 


near  us." 


"Whin  we  was  goin'  by  we  seen  a  stir  in 
the  bush,"  said  she,  "so  down  we  drops  on 
our  hands  and  knees  wid  our  pop-guns 
ready  an'  crack  wint  their  rifles  an'  we 
knew  the  divvle  was  up.  Whin  ol'  Horkins 
got  down  off  the  rocks  we  spit  the  lead  into 
'em  for  we  thought  yez  was  kilt  entirely  an' 
—  praise  God !  —  yez  seem  to  be  well  as 
ever  —  both  o'  yez  --  jisht!" 

I  took  the  hand  of  the  "lady  cook"  and 
put  my  arm  around  her  neck  and  kissed 
her,  and  spoke  the  best  compliment  that 
I  could  think  of  and  she  gave  me  a  playful 
poke  on  the  shoulder  and  exclaimed: 
"Blarney!" 


260  THE   MASTER 

Lovel  turned  to  Wave  and  her  mother, 
and  asked: 

"Are  you  both  strong  enough  to  walk 
through  the  night?" 

"Aye,  an'  a  bit  to  spare,"  said  Cap'n 
Larriper. 

I  promptly  assured  him  that  I  favoured 
a  change  of  climate,  and  he  said: 

"Then  we  shall  hurry  on.  By  sunrise 
we  should  be  near  the  railroad." 

We  made  some  torches  and  hastily  gath 
ered  up  our  packs  and  rifles  and  hurried  to 
the  trail. 

Cap'n  Larriper  had  known  worried  days 
since  I  left  the  Susquehanna,  and  told  their 
story  as  we  walked.  Horkins  had  returned 
to  the  ship  one  day  with  a  stranger.  That 
evening  they  disappeared,  and  in  the  middle 
watch  the  ship  caught  fire  and  burned  at  her 
dock.  In  escaping  Horkins  had  dropped  his 
waistcoat  on  the  deck  and  Cap'n  Larriper  had 
picked  it  up,  and  found  in  one  of  its  pockets 
the  evidence  which  had  sent  her  to  the  wild 
country  in  quest  of  me.  My  letter  to  Ruth 
and  another  from  Rone,  asking  "for  help  with 
the  pippin,"  were  in  a  hidden  pocket  under  its 
lining.  Learning  next  day  that  Horkins  and 
his  companion  had  brought  rifles  and  pro- 


THE   MASTER  261 

visions  and  left  the  city,  she  and  her  daughter 
and  a  guide  had  set  out  in  the  trail  to  Lac 
Creche,  where  she  knew  that  I  had  gone 
with  the  Cap'n.  They  had  dismissed  their 
guide  after  a  day's  travel,  confident  of  their 
ability  to  keep  the  trail. 

A  little  after  dark  one  evening  they  had 
come  so  near  the  campfire  of  Wagner  and 
Horkins  that  they  could  hear  their  voices. 
Wave  and  her  mother  had  been  drawn  from 
their  trail  by  the  firelight  and  had  gone  back 
a  little  and  put  up  for  the  night.  They  had 
heard  the  others  leaving  long  before  sunrise 
and  when  light  came  they  had  been  delayed 
an  hour  or  so  in  looking  for  the  trail.  So 
they  had  fallen  far  behind  and  we  had  heard 
them  passing  our  ravine  in  the  dusk. 

That  night,  as  we  hurried  on,  my  cousin 
explained  to  me  that  he  had  asked  Mrs. 
Larriper  to  apply  to  Rone  for  employment 
as  cook  on  the  Susquehanna.  Condon  had 
suggested  the  plan,  desiring  information  as 
to  the  business  of  the  "Cap'n"  and  his 
ship.  The  character  and  the  peril  of  her 
task  were  fully  explained  to  Mrs.  Larriper 
but  she  had  the  courage  to  undertake  it. 

"I  will  tell  you  why  we  chose  her  for 
this  work,"  Lovel  added.  "Rone's  easy 


262  THE   MASTER 

gallantries  —  set  forth  in  your  sketch  of  him  — 
suggested  that  a  woman  with  quick  wit  and 
a  strong  arm  would  be  able  to  control  him, 
as  Mrs.  Larriper  has  done.  Nevertheless, 
she  knows  that  the  paths  of  the  strong  lead  to 
peril  and  that  we  must  run  with  patience  the 
race  that  is  set  before  us." 

She  interrupted  the  narrative  to  declare 
that  she  could  stand  danger  better  than 
dirt,  and  went  on  to  say  that  the  filthy  con 
dition  of  the  old  ship  had  "druv  her  mad," 
and  when  she  asked  to  be  set  ashore,  the 
Cap'n  had  coolly  informed  her  that,  if  she 
went,  she  would  have  to  swim.  So  she  had 
gone  on  and  made  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 

Our  talk  wore  the  night  away  and  made 
us  forget  our  weariness,  and  soon  after 
sunrise  we  were  aboard  the  cars  on  our  way 
to  Quebec. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

T  *  7E  TOOK  the  first  train  for  New 
V  V  York,  and  all  slept  the  journey 
through,  save  myself.  We  arrived  in  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  of  the  fifteenth  of 
September  —  a  day  of  great  trial  for  me, 
with  its  final  hours  so  full  of  uncertainty.  I 
left  my  companions  at  the  depot,  having 
promised  to  see  Horton  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  go  to  the  Lanthorne  at  ten  o'clock,  for 
a  talk  with  Lovel.  I  went  to  an  inn  and 
then  to  a  tailor's  shop,  for  with  all  my 
hardships  I  was  scarcely  fit  to  be  seen 
by  gentlefolk,  and  I  had  begun  to  feel  the 
vanity  of  a  bird  preparing  for  his  summer 
shine. 

It  was  growing  dark  when  I  rang  at  the 
door  of  Israel  Horton.  The  old  butler  opened 
it,  and  said  that  he  would  take  my  name  to 
his  master.  On  his  return  he  looked  at 
me  as  if  I  were  no  better  than  the  doormat, 
and  said: 

"Mr.  Horton  cannot  see  you." 

"Tell  him  that  he  must  see  me;     I  have 

263 


264  THE   MASTER 

business  that  cannot  be  delayed,"  was  my 
answer. 

The  great  man  gave  me  no  greeting  when 
I  entered  his  room. 

"I  should  think  you  would  hesitate  to 
face  me,"  he  said  sternly. 

44  On  the  contrary,  I  have  been  working 
hard  for  the  pleasure,"  said  I. 

"I  am  not  greatly  complimented,  young 
man.  Please  tell  me  your  business." 

He  had  not  asked  me  to  sit  down.  I 
stood  facing  him,  unhorsed  and  trying  to 
command  myself,  for  my  emotions  had  been 
rising  since  I  entered  his  door. 

'You  misjudge  me,"  I  began;  whereupon 
he  interrupted  by  again  demanding  my 
business. 

I  heard  the  rustle  of  a  woman's  skirt,  and 
suddenly  Ruth  hurried  into  the  room,  and 
what  a  splendour  I  saw  in  her  face  that 
moment!  She  took  my  hand  and  gravel} 
looked  into  my  eyes,  and  for  a  second  not  a 
word  was  spoken.  She  turned  to  her  father 
and  tried  to  be  very  cheerful  as  she  said : 

44  Sit  down,  gentlemen,  and  make  your 
selves  at  home.  I  will  ring  for  some  tea." 

44  Perhaps,  I  had  better  see  you  alone," 
I  suggested  to  her  father. 


THE   MASTER  265 

"I  shall  not  leave  you  alone  together," 
said  Ruth.  "I  am  afraid  that  you  would 
both  be  torn  to  pieces." 

"Go  ahead,  boy;  I  hope  it's  nothing  to 
be  ashamed  of,"  said  Horton. 

Then  out  came  my  story  in  a  rush  of 
vivid  sentences,  that  ran  on  for  an  hour  or 
so,  like  a  mountain  brook  in  the  spring,  and 
brought  them  both  to  my  side.  In  the 
midst  of  it  Horton  wrung  my  hand  and 
declared  that  I  should  go  no  further  until 
I  had  forgiven  his  rudeness,  while  Ruth 
walked  slowly  across  the  room  with  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  When  all  was 
told  about  Rone,  the  Susquehanna,  Lovel, 
and  Gabriel  Horton,  and  the  Isle  of  the 
Sky  —  and  I  had  come  as  near  the  end  of 
my  story  as  my  understanding  would  let 
me,  I  paused  and  Israel  Horton  said: 

"Condon  arrives  to-morrow  afternoon  and 
I  am  to  meet  the  steamer  and  drive  here 
with  him.  They  have  planned  to  throw  a 
bomb  at  the  carriage.  Holm,  you  should 
thank  God  that  you  are  not  a  rich  man." 

"Poverty  has  its  advantages,"  I  said,  and 
rose  to  go.  "Can  you  meet  me  at  the 
Lanthorne  at  ten  to-night  ?  Lovel  will  await 
us  there." 


266  THE   MASTER 

"I  will  meet  you  at  the  Lanthorne  at  ten 
o'clock,"  he  answered,  as  he  put  his  arm  about 
me  and  started  for  the  door,  and  added: 
"  Boy,  I  hope  the  next  chapter  in  your  story 
may  be  a  happy  one.  If  there  is  anything 
I  can  do  to  make  it  so,  I  shall  be  glad." 

"I  may  have  a  request  to  make  of  you  as 
soon  as  this  danger  is  past,"  I  said. 

"I'll  give  you  anything  but  my  daughter," 
he  warned  me. 

I  wondered  if  he  would  have  me  under 
stand  that  I  had  returned  too  late  —  and 
lost  her.  The  fear  cut  deep  in  me,  but  I 
could  see  no  chance  of  relief,  for  my  friend, 
pale  with  horror,  had  sent  for  his  secretary, 
and  Ruth  had  left  the  room  in  tears,  having 
been  cautioned  by  her  father  to  say  nothing 
of  what  she  had  heard.  So  I  left  the  house 
and  hastened  to  the  lodgings  of  Colonel 
Christmas,  and  had  a  quiet  dinner  with  him, 
and  gave  a  brief  account  of  myself,  and 
learned  of  all  that  had  happened  in  the 
School  for  Novelists.  Darklight  had  pub 
lished  a  great  book  and  Pipps  had  made  the 
wTorld  laugh  with  a  series  of  satirical  tales. 
The  school  would  meet  again  Saturday  night, 
when  Condon  was  to  be  present  and  tell 
of  his  trip  abroad. 


THE   MASTER  267 

"Sir,  you  must  go  and  bring  Lovel,  and 
we'll  make  a  night  of  it!"  the  Colonel 
exclaimed. 

I  promised  to  go,  if  possible,  and  a  little 
before  ten  set  out  for  the  Sign  of  the  Lan- 
thorne.  The  shades  of  the  club-room  were 
drawn  close,  and  within  I  found  my  cousin 
sitting  at  its  big  round  table,  with  the 
innkeeper. 

We  were  scarcely  done  with  our  greeting 
when  Horton  entered  in  a  faded  derby  hat 
and  the  great-coat  of  a  coachman.  He 
greeted  Lovel  warmly,  and  flung  off  his 
hat  and  top-coat  saying,  as  he  took  a  chair 
at  the  table: 

"The  next  best  thing  to  poverty  is  its 
resemblance."  He  turned  to  Lovel  and  said: 
"I've  been  hearing  of  that  wonderful  home 
in  the  sky,  and  I  have  a  great  favour  to 
ask." 

Lovel  said  for  an  answer:  "You  would 
like  to  go  there,  and  you  would  be  most 
welcome  in  my  house,  and  my  master,  Gabriel, 
the  happiest  of  men  for  even  a  look  at  you. 
He  fears  that  you  are  so  in  love  with  grandeur 
that  you  would  find  no  joy  in  his  way  of 
life,  and  try  to  take  him  out  of  it." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  is  the  kind  of  thing 


268  THE    MASTER 

I  long  for,"  said  Horton.  "I  want  to  get 
away  from  my  money  and  all  its  perils 
and  responsibilities  -  -  from  beggars,  liars, 
sycophants  and  those  who  are  rotten  with 
envy  and  who  hate  me  because  I  have  suc 
ceeded.  When  I  heard  of  that  home  of 
yours  —  my  God!  boy,  it  put  me  in  mind 
of  Paradise." 

"But  it  is  an  expensive  place,"  said  Lovel. 
"Not  one  of  us  could  afford  to  live  there  for 
more  than  a  little  time." 

We  looked  into  his  eyes,  not  quite  aware 
of  his  meaning. 

"  It  would  cost  more  than  we  could  pay  - 
our  strength,  our  happiness,  our  very  heart's 
desire,"  Lovel  added. 

"How  so?"  was  the  query  of  Horton. 

"Because  you  would  find  no  beggars, 
liars,  and  sycophants  there  —  no  envy,  no 
hatred,  no  peril,  no  work,  no  reason  why 
you  should  be  there  save  for  a  day  or  two 
of  rest.  Paradise  is  not  in  the  Isle  of  the 
Shy.  It  is  in  our  task  or  it  is  not  in  this 
world.  My  father  found  his  work  there 
and  was  content,  and  as  to  your  brother  - 
his  work  is  finished.  We  should  find  only 
rest  and  beauty  and  comfort  in  the  Isle  of 
the  Sky,  and  they  are  not  enough  for  u*. 


THE   MASTER  269 

I  had  to  leave  it  and  seek  to  know  why  I 
was  living." 

"And  not  all  the  money  in  the  world  could 
turn  you  from  your  task,"  said  Horton,  as 
he  looked  with  wonder  into  the  face  of  the 
clear-eyed  youth  beside  him. 

"No,  nor  any  pain  or  fear,"  said  Lovel 
modestly,  and  many  times  I  have  thought 
of  those  words  of  his. 

A  stern-looking  man  of  middle-age,  with 
keen,  gray  eyes  and  silvered  hair,  had  entered 
the  room  and  closed  its  door  behind  him 
and  was  approaching  us. 

"Well,  now  for  our  night's  work,"  said 
Horton,  as  he  rose  and  shook  the  stranger's 
hand,  and  presented  him  as  Chief  Burns, 
by  which  we  knew  that  we  were  addressing 
the  chief  of  police. 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  the  latter, 
turning  to  Horton,  at  once,  regarding  the 
matter  in  hand,  as  we  sat  down.  "They'll 
throw  a  bomb  at  the  carriage." 

"And  you  must  get  the  bomb-thrower  or 
I  might  as  well  jump  overboard,"  said 
Horton.  "A  life  of  fear  is  hardly  worth 
living." 

"  I  have  taken  a  step  to  that  end  by  arresting 
your  coachman,"  said  the  keen-eyed  man. 


270  THE   MASTER 

Horton  rose,  dumb  with  amazement,  and 
paced  the  floor. 

"He  has  given  me  the  whole  story,"  the 
chief  went  on:  'There  are  five  anarchists 
who  are  booked  for  this  job  besides  the 
coachman,  and  I  have  their  names  here." 

He  read  from  a  note-book  as  follows: 

L4  William  Horkins,  Heinrich  Wagner,  Roger 
Rone,  Jacob  Fischer,  and  an  unknown  man. 
He  closed  the  book  and  added:  "The 
unknown  man  is  the  bomb-thrower  —  no 
doubt  of  that.  Even  your  coachman  does 
not  know  who  will  throw  it.  He  drives 
away  from  the  pier  in  the  direction  of  your 
home  by  a  certain  route.  At  some  point 
a  man  will  signal  him  with  three  blasts  on 
a  whistle.  He  jumps  from  the  l>ox  and 
runs,  and  off  goes  the  bomb,  and  the  carriage 
is  up  in  the  air  and  comes  down  in  a  thousand 
pieces.  Now,  we  must  send  the  carriage 
home  empty  and  let  them  blow  it  up,  and 
get  the  bomb-thrower,  if  we  can.  I'll  post 
a  hundred  men  in  plain  clothes  along  the 
route,  and  send  one  on  a  bicycle  to  follow 
the  carriage.  I  have  promised  to  let  up 
on  the  coachman  if  we  succeed,  and  he  has 
agreed  to  help  us.  He's  as  keen  as  we  are 
to  get  the  right  man." 


THE   MASTER  271 

"  Where  is  the  coachman  —  isn't  he  in 
my  stable?"  Horton  asked. 

"Yes;  and  two  of  my  men  are  helping 
him  with  the  chores.  You  must  go  to  the 
wharf  to-morrow  as  if  you  knew  nothing 
of  all  this.  I'll  be  there  and  tell  you  what 
to  do.  I've  only  one  fear  about  it." 

"What  is  that?" 

"The  coachman  is  a  coward  and  his  nerve 
may  fail  him.  When  he  gets  to  the  wharf 
there  may  be  something  wrong  with  the 
harness  or  the  carriage.  But  I  will  do  my 
best  to  take  care  of  that.  I  have  a  coupe, 
that  looks  like  yours,  with  steel  shutters  and 
spring  locks  on  the  doors,  and  it  would  take 
a  safe-cracker  with  all  his  tools  to  break  out 
of  that  little  wagon.  It's  a  portable  jail 
and  very  handy  in  a  crowd.  I'll  have  it 
standing  on  the  dock  with  an  extra  set  of 
harness.  If  any  of  that  gang  should  show 
up  there  I'll  shove  'em  into  it  where  they 
won't  make  us  any  trouble  until  they  go  to 
headquarters." 

The  conference  added  nothing  more  to  the 
material  of  my  history  save  that  our  host 
sent  in  a  bite  of  supper  over  which  we  sat  talk- 
bag  until  midnight,  and  I  told  again  of  all  our 
adventures  with  Horkins,  Rone  and  Wagner. 


272  THE   MASTER 

The  story  of  Wave  and  Mrs.  Larriper 
reached  the  heart  of  the  millionaire. 

"I  have  a  freight  line  on  the  lakes, "  he 
suggested;  "send  them  to  my  office  in 
Chicago  and  I  will  see  that  they  have 
employment  and  a  home  on  one  of  our 
boats." 

"It  will  be  a  blessing  to  them  if  you  are 
good  enough  to  see  that  they  are  kindly 
treated,"  said  my  cousin.  'They  love  the 
sea,  and  a  task  among  cleanly  people  is 
the  thing  I  wish  for  them." 

Horton  scribbled  an  order  for  their  passes, 
and  rose  quickly  and  put  on  his  coat  and 
hat  and  bade  us  good  night. 

"I'm  glad  you  did  as  I  told  you,"  said 
the  chief,  as  he  shook  hands  with  the  million 
aire.  "Plain  clothes  won't  hurt  you  any 
and  walking  will  do  you  good." 

"Oh,  I  wore  a  jumper  long  before  I  ever 
saw  a  dress  suit!"  said  Horton,  as  he  hurried 
away. 

The  chief  followed  half  a  moment  or  so 
behind  him. 

Lovel  and  I  went  to  the  little  shop.  It 
was  much  as  we  had  left  it,  save  that  Wave 
and  Mrs.  Larripcr  had  been  there  sweeping, 
dusting  and  scrubbing  the  rooms,  and  had 


THE   MASTER  273 

put  a  vase  of  flowers  on  the  bedroom  table, 
and  doilies  of  their  own  making  on  the 
chairs. 

"It  looks  very  cozy,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  and  I  love  this  little  home,  but  I 
have  not  long  to  stay  here." 

"  Why  ?  It  will  be  no  more  a  place  of 
peril,  I  hope." 

"But  I  must  go  where  I  may  better  serve 
my  brothers,"  he  answered,  as  he  began 
to  pace  the  floor. 

We  heard  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  and  when 
I  opened  the  door  Wave  and  Mrs.  Larriper 
stood  before  me. 

"God  bless  yez  both,"  said  the  "lady 
cook,"  as  they  entered.  "We  spint  the 
evenin'  with  Mis'  Kerrigan  acrost  the  way, 
an*  seen  the  light  in  yer  windies  an'  stepped 
in  t'  ax  if  we  can  come  to-morry  an'  tidy 
the  place  a  bit  more.  We'll  bring  some 
trinkets  along  an'  a  few  little  knickknacks 
that'll  make  it  more  like  a  home." 

"Dear  friend,  it  is  good  enough,"  said 
Lovel.  "My  home  is  not  here,  and  hence 
forth  I  know  not  where  it  will  be.  I  have 
found  a  place  for  you  both  on  a  big,  clean 
ship  that  carries  freight  on  the  Great  Lakes." 

"Ah,  ye're  a  wonderful  lad  —  jisht!"  said 


THE   MASTER 

Mrs.  Larriper,  as  she  stood  with  her  hands 
clasped  and  looked  into  the  eyes  of  Lovel, 
with  tears  in  her  own.  "I  could  kiss  the 
soles  o'  yer  feet,  man,  I  love  ye  so,  for  all 
yeVe  done  for  us.  How  can  I  pay  the 
debt  I  owe  ye?" 

"By  helping  some  other  in  need,"  said 
my  cousin.  "Good  mother,  go  you  to  your 
task  to-morrow.  This  will  give  you  tickets, 
and  tell  you  whom  to  look  for  at  the  end  of 
your  journey  and  where  to  find  them."  He 
irave  her  the  order  and  certain  directions 
which  the  millionaire  had  prepared.  "I  may 
never  see  you  again,  but  I  am  sure  that  I 
shall  have  good  news  of  you." 

Then  I  saw  what  filled  me  with  wonder 
and  surprise.  The  girl  knelt  at  his  feet, 
in  tears,  and  kissed  the  sleeve  of  his  coat, 
and  the  face  of  the  young  man  glowed  with 
a  beauty  and  a  tenderness  beyond  any  words 
of  mine.  He  spoke  not  for  half  a  moment, 
and  then  very  calmly,  in  a  low,  gentle  tone, 
as  he  raised  the  girl  to  her  feet. 

"Dear  child!  I  have  only  paid  my  debt 
to  you,  and  you  owe  me  nothing.  Go  to 
your  task  and  forget  me,  but  remember 
what  I  have  said." 

"I  shall  be  at  the  Silver  Mug.     Let  me 


THE   MASTER  275 

know  when  your  train  goes  and  I  shall  be 
there  to  bid  you  good-bye  again,"  I  said,  as 
I  shook  their  hands. 

Lovel  went  to  the  landing  with  them,  and 
I  heard  Mrs.  Larriper  say:  "May  the  good 
God  help  an'  bless  an'  keep  ye,  boy." 

"I  doubt  not  He  will,"  said  Ben  Lovel, 
as  he  came  away. 

I  turned  to  him  and  said:  "My  master, 
it  is  a  great  thing  to  have  others  do  your 
praying  for  you." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  so  addressed 
him,  for  the  day  had  come  when  I  had  begun 
to  think  of  him  as  my  master. 

We  closed  the  shop  and  walked  to  the 
Silver  Mug  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  night 
there. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IT  WAS  near  midday  when  we  left  our 
beds.  Word  had  come  to  me,  soon  after 
nine  o'clock,  that  Condon's  ship  would  reach 
her  dock  at  five,  and  that  Mrs.  Larriper 
and  \Vave  would  be  leaving  the  Central 
Station  at  two.  After  breakfast  I  said  to 
my  cousin: 

"Let  us  go  and  make  our  adieux  to  the 
Larripers." 

44 1  think  that  you  would  best  go  alone," 
he  answered,  and  left  me  little  doubt  of  his 
meaning  when  he  added:  '*!  do  not  wish 
to  increase  their  sadness  or  my  own." 

On  my  return  I  found  him  writing,  and 
presently  we  sent  for  saddle-horses,  and 
bade  the  grooms  meet  us  at  four  o'clock 
in  front  of  the  pier,  where  Condon  was 
expected,  and  hold  our  horses  there  until 
we  were  ready  for  them.  I  had  the  notion 
that  with  horses  we  could  follow  the  doomed 
carriage  and  assist  in  the  capture  of  the 
bomb-thrower. 

Wre   reached   the   pier   at   four-thirty,   and 


THE   MASTER  277 

found  the  grooms,  and  dismounted  and 
left  the  animals  in  their  charge.  We  passed 
the  customs  gate  and  stood  where  we  could 
see  every  comer.  A  group  of  men  followed 
us,  and  then  "the  Chief"  arrived  in  a 
glittering  coupe,  and  we  saw  him  alight, 
and  address  his  coachman,  who  immediately 
drove  aside  and  unhitched  his  horses  and 
took  them  away.  Some  dock  men  backed 
the  vehicle  behind  a  pile  of  freight,  near  a 
wall  of  the  pier  house.  The  chief  quickly 
drew  its  shutters  and  closed  its  door  with  a 
bang.  Then  he  beckoned  to  me  and  said 
in  a  low  tone: 

"I'll  make  you  a  deputy.  There  is  my 
little  jail.  Stay  near  it,  sir.  I  might  need 
your  help.  Here's  a  key  to  the  carriage, 
and  if  you  get  tired  unlock  its  door  and 
take  a  seat  inside.  The  steamer  will  be  late." 

The  pier  was  rapidly  filling  with  eager 
and  excited  people,  come  to  greet  their 
friends,  and  I  heard  many  say  that  the 
ship  was  then  coming  up  the  river.  They 
crowded  to  the  pier's  end  to  observe  her 
approach.  I  saw  Horton  pass  hurriedly, 
as  I  stood  by  the  carriage  door.  I  waited 
until  the  sun  was  low  and  gloomy  shadows 
had  begun  to  fall  around  me.  Thoughts 


278  THE   MASTER 

of  the  dark  tragedy  that  threatened,  of  the 
darker  souls,  damned  with  devils'  hate  and 
bitterness  who  had  planned  it,  filled  the 
hour  with  a  kind  of  fever.  In  the  midst 
of  it  I  saw  Ruth  Horton  passing  alone,  and 
ran  to  her  side.  She  was  pale  with  anxiety, 
and  her  hand  trembled  when  I  took  it. 

"He  forbade  me;  he  forbade  me  to  come 
here,"  she  said;  "but  I  had  to  come,  or  I 
am  sure  that  my  thoughts  would  have  killed 
me.  I  want  to  be  at  his  side." 

'You  are  his  best  protector,  if  he  only 
knew  it,"  I  said,  for,  as  I  looked  at  the 
sweet,  girlish  figure  I  knew  that  if  it  stood 
beside  him  he  would  be  safe,  for  surely  no 
man  could  raise  a  hand  to  harm  her. 

"But  I  fear  that  he  would  lose  his  nerve 
if  he  were  to  see  you  here,"  I  urged.  "I 
think  you'd  best  go  home;  we  will  look  out 
for  your  father." 

"I  am  faint  and  almost  dead  with  fear/' 
she  whispered.  '  My  knees  tremble  and 
my  feet  are  heavy  as  lead." 

I  opened  the  door  and  asked  her  to  sit 
down  and  compose  herself  in  the  carriage. 
She  stepped  in,  and  I  partly  closed  the 
door,  and  as  I  turned,  Lovel  came  running 
toward  me. 


THE   MASTER  279 

"Horkins  and  Fischer  are  here,"  he 
whispered. 

We  hurried  in  among  the  crowd  at  the 
dock's  end,  to  find  the  chief  and  inform 
him  of  our  discovery.  The  vessel  was  in 
her  slip  and  the  crowd  moving  to  the  gang 
ways.  Five  minutes  had  passed  before  we 
found  the  chief,  who  stood  where  the  first- 
cabin  passengers  would  land,  with  the 
millionaire  beside  him. 

"I  know  they  are  here  and  we  shall  have 
them  hi  a  minute,"  he  said,  when  I  had 
imparted  our  information.  "They've  taken 
alarm  and  my  men  will  get  them  at  the 
gate.  Run  out  there,  and  if  you  see  them, 
do  what  you  can  to  help." 

We  ran  to  the  gate  and  there  were  the 
"plain  clothes  men"  —half  a  dozen  of  them 
staring  into  the  faces  of  all  who  passed. 
Two  of  them  approached  us. 

"You  are  the  man  who  knows  Horkins?" 
one  of  them  said  to  me. 

'Yes,"  I  answered,  as  the  officers  gathered 
about  us. 

"Stand  here,  and  if  they  try  to  pass,  point 
them  out  to  these  men,"  he  said  as  he  ran 
down  the  pier. 

We  stood  through  slow,  grinding  minutes, 


280  THE    MASTER 

alert  and  fierce  as  a  tiger  ready  for  its  spring, 
and  by  and  by  the  officer  returned. 

"  They're  not  on  this  pier,"  he  said. 

"I  saw  them  in  the  crowd,"  Lovel  assured 
him. 

'Then  they've  taken  to  the  water.  I 
know  them  well  and  so  do  three  of  the  other 
boys,  and  we've  covered  every  foot  of  the 
pier." 

A  pair  of  black  horses  came  swiftly  toward 
us,  and  we  sprang  aside  and  they  rushed  by 
and  clattered  off  in  the  dusk.  As  they 
flashed  through  the  glow  of  a  great  arc- 
light  above  us,  I  had  recognized  Horton's 
coachman  on  the  box.  Right  then  my  fear 
grew  to  a  kind  of  panic--!  could  not  have 
told  why.  I  caught  the  officer's  arm  and 
my  words  stumbled  out  of  me. 

"Look  here  —  look  here-  was-— was 
that  Horton's  coupe?" 

"No;  Horton's  had  a  broken  pole  and 
they  put  his  horses  on  the  chief's  coupe." 

I  ran  through  the  gate  and  sprang  to  the 
back  of  my  horse,  that  stood  near,  and 
dashed  away  in  pursuit,  for  suddenly  I  had 
thought  of  the  girl  dearer  than  my  life  to 
me,  whom  I  had  concealed  in  the  "little 
jail."  I  had  forgotten  her,  and  she  might 


THE  MASTER  281 

lose  her  life  and  I  all  hope  of  happiness,  and 
so  I  dug  the  spurs  in  my  horse  and  shouted 
a  warning  and  dashed  away.  I  knew  the 
coachman's  route  along  which  the  chief's 
men  were  posted,  and  fortunately  there  were 
few  in  the  streets.  On  I  went,  lashing  and 
shouting,  to  keep  people  out  of  my  way, 
until,  after  a  minute  or  so  of  this  kind  of 
thing,  I  began  to  check  my  horse  seeing  the 
carriage  ahead  of  me.  It  was  now  quite 
dark,  and  I  could  see  no  other  sign  of  life 
in  the  streets  —  save  lights  in  the  windows 
—  and  I  was  passing  the  rear  wheels  of  the 
coupe,  and  had  heard  the  voices  of  men  in 
it  calling  for  help,  and  had  taken  breath 
for  a  shout  to  the  driver,  when  the  whistle 
sounded  and  I  saw  him  leap  from  his  box. 
Some  fifty  feet  ahead  of  me  a  man  was  run 
ning  toward  the  carriage.  I  spurred  my  horse 
and  rushed  toward  him,  as  I  heard  his  cry : 

"I  am  the  vengeance  of  God!" 

I  saw  the  quick  jerk  of  his  arm,  and  my 
boot  struck  him  and  down  he  went.  Then  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  earth  had  split  asunder 
and  that  I  heard  voices  shouting  in  the 
midst  of  hell.  The  rent  pavements  roared 
aloft  in  a  blinding  flash  of  light  and  showered 
about  me.  A  breath  or  two  of  silence  and 


282  THE   MASTER 

the  street  was  full  of  echoes  —  shouts  and 
cries,  the  beat  of  night  sticks  and  of  running 
feet.  I  was  lying  on  the  sidewalk  with  one 
leg  under  my  horse.  I  pulled  free  and  got 
to  my  feet  unharmed  but  like  one  stricken 
with  madness.  At  least  a  hundred  men 
and  women,  some  with  lighted  lanterns, 
were  standing  about  the  dead  horses  and 
the  wrecked  coupe  and  a  black  hole  in  the 
earth.  I  pushed  in  among  them,  and  heard 
myself  calling  loudly: 

"  Is  she  dead  and  the  whole  city  destroyed  ?" 

The  chief  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder 
and  gave  me  a  shake,  and  I  heard  him  say: 
"You're  all  right,  old  man,"  and  suddenly 
I  recovered  my  senses. 

"We're  picking  up  your  friends,  Horkins 
and  Fischer,"  said  the  chief.  'They  were 
in  the  coupe  and  have  been  flung  all  over 
the  neighbourhood." 

"They  were  in  the  coupe!"  I  exclaimed, 
and  the  joyous  thought  came  to  me  that 
Ruth  had  left  it  and  gone  home  while  we 
were  looking  for  the  chief. 

"You  must  have  left  the  door  open,"  he 
went  on.  "They  hid  in  the  coupe*  while 
we  were  after  them,  and  locked  themselves 
in  without  knowing  it." 


THE   MASTER  283 

"And  where  is  the  bomb-thrower?"  I 
asked. 

"Killed  by  his  own  bomb,"  the  chief 
answered.  "One  of  my  men  saw  you  knock 
him  down  before  he  could  get  out  of  the 
way.  Your  horse  was  going  so  fast  that 
he  carried  you  out  of  danger." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

NEXT  morning  the  papers  made  a  better 
hero  of  me  than  I  have  yet  made  of 
myself,  for  I  have  done  nothing  in  all  my 
life  which  would  have  halted  any  man  of 
common  courage.  The  reporters,  all  of  whom 
I  knew,  would  give  us  no  peace  and  we 
escaped  from  the  Mug,  soon  after  midnight, 
and  drove  to  an  inn  in  upper  Broadway. 

About  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  set  out 
for  the  Horton  home,  determined  to  end  my 
suspense  that  day,  if  possible.  I  met  Ruth 
on  the  avenue  within  a  block  of  the  house. 

"My  hero'/'  she  exclaimed,  "I  knew  that 
you  would  be  coming  and  I  have  patrol  1< ><1 
the  block  for  an  hour,  so  that  I  wouldn't  miss 
you." 

We  turned  into  a  side  street,  now  quite 
deserted,  and  she  explained  that  she  had  left 
the  carriage  in  a  moment  or  two  after  I  had 
partly  closed  its  door  upon  her,  and  seeing 
nothing  of  me  had  returned  to  her  home. 

I  said  not  a  word  of  my  panic  and  the 
wild  ride  on  which  it  had  sent  me. 

284 


THE   MASTER  285 

"This  is  good  luck,"  I  said,  after  a  silence. 
"I  must  have  a  talk  with  you.  I'm  going 
to  rebel  and  declare  my  independence  if 
it  costs  my  head.  Your  father  is  a  tyrant." 

"And  you  a  hasty  young  man.  Shame 
on  you  —  my  father  is  your  friend." 

"Then  your  mother  is  the  proud  and 
haughty  one.  I  suggest  that  we  rebel  and 
strike  for  liberty." 

She  smiled,  and  looked  into  my  eyes  and 
saw  there  all  that  I  wished  to  tell  her. 

"Don't  say  a  word,"  she  cautioned  me. 
Then,  "Didn't  you  know?"  she  added  with  a 
troubled  look  in  her  face.  "Is  it  possible  you 
didn't  know  that  I  am  to  be  married  soon  ?" 

I  turned  and  looked  at  her  with  a  heart 
of  lead  in  me. 

''You  are  not  so  clever  as  I  thought," 
she  remarked  with  a  sigh.  "I  was  sure 
that  you  knew  all  about  it." 

"Ruth!  I  can't  believe  you.  If  I  did, 
I  should  want  to  die." 

"Nonsense;  you  may  be  the  most  cheerful 
man  at  the  wedding,  if  you  will.  You  see, 
if  you  do  not  want  me,  I  am  sure  that  the 
Prince  does." 

Making  love  in  the  street  has  its  dis 
advantages  and  I  felt  them  keenly,  but 


286  THE   MASTER 

better  there  than  nowhere,  let  me  assure 
you,  dear  reader. 

"I  ought  to  have  understood  you,"  I 
said,  in  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life. 

'You  had  a  riddle  to  solve  and  you  did  it 
rather  badly,"  she  complained  with  a  pretty 
smile,  and  took  my  arm.  "But  never  mind; 
you  will  know  women  better  by  and  by." 

"Divination  is  well  enough,  but  now  for 
plain  talk  and  plenty  of  it,"  I  said.  "  I 
want  to  talk  with  you  for  the  next  fifty  years, 
at  least,  and  we  might  begin  to-day,  with 
a  formal  interview  at  the  minister's." 

"I'm  surprised  at  you  —  a  member  of 
the  School  for  Novelists!"  she  whispered. 
"Don't  you  know  that  her  wedding  is  a 
woman's  great  event  ?  Think  of  the  gifts, 
and  the  gowns,  and  how  grand  I  shall  look 
and  how  all  the  young  ladies  will  envy  me! 
Think  of  the  joy  of  my  friends,  and  the 
misery  of  my  aunts  and  cousins!  You 
wouldn't  deprive  me  of  all  that  ?  Think 
of  my  pride,  too,  in  going  to  the  altar  with 
a  fine  young  man!  —  a  handsome  young 
man!  who,  as  he  stands  at  my  side,  will 
look  like  a  toy  soldier!  Now,  don't  you 
see  that  you  haven't  a  leg  to  stand  on  ?" 

I  had  to  admit  it. 


THE   MASTER  287 

"Boy,  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Israel 
Horton,  as  we  entered  his  room  that  morning. 
"You  did  your  work  well.  I  couldn't  be 
more  sure  of  your  mettle  if  you  had  spent 
a  year  in  the  shops." 

"You  funny  man!"  said  Ruth,  as  she 
patted  the  cheek  of  her  father.  ''You  think 
that  every  boy  must  be  made  in  a  shop, 
because  you  were." 

"Great  girl!  great  girl,  young  man!"  he 
exclaimed.  "I  wish  you  would  help  me 
manage  her,  for  God  knows,  I  have  enough 
to  do  now.  I  must  look  out,  boy,  that  she 
doesn't  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  worthless 
fellow." 

"Father,  I'm  saved!"  said  Ruth.  "He 
has  consented  to  marry  me  himself." 

"What,  my  girl!" 

"I  am  surrounded  by  so  many  perils  — 
fools,  princes,  profligates  —  and  he  by  so 
many  pretty  girls!" 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are 
engaged?" 

She  held  her  cheek  against  his  and  said: 
"Father,  we  have  risen  in  our  wrath  and 
decided  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  oppression, 
and  marry  each  other." 

"I  ought  to  be  mad,  but  I  control  myself," 


288  THE   MASTER 

he  answered  with  a  smile.  "Go  and  make 
your  peace  with  the  old  girl,  and  may  God 
bless  you!" 

"Come,"  said  she,  taking  my  arm  and 
smiling  up  at  me. 

'There's  one  preliminary,"  I  said,  as  I 
held  her  close  and  covered  her  face  with 
kisses. 

"That's  business!"  said  Horton  with  a 
laugh.  "Boy,  you'll  make  a  successful 
husband." 

"I  thought  he  was  going  to  forget  it, 
didn't  you,  father?"  she  remarked  playfully. 
"You  see,  our  love-making  has  been  done 
by  telepathy  —  there  was  no  other  way. 
Volumes  of  tender  thought  and  affection 
have  passed  between  us,  and  we  under 
stand  each  other,  but  the  poor  fellow 
has  never  had  a  chance  to  kiss  me  until 


now." 


"One  kiss  is  better  than  a  year  of 
telepathy,"  her  father  asserted.  Then  he 
turned  to  me  and  said:  'Young  man,  I've 
been  with  you  from  the  start,  and  I  shall 
be  glad  to  take  you  into  the  family,  but  you 
must  get  her  mother's  consent  before  this 
goes  any  further." 

"Come  on,"  Ruth  whispered. 


THE   MASTER  289 

"Look  here,  boy,"  said  Israel  Horton, 
"you'll  want  to  borrow  some  money." 

"I  think  not,"  was  my  answer.  "I  have 
a  little  that  my  uncle  left  me." 

"And  we're  both  willing  to  begin  poor," 
said  Ruth.  "We've  considered  all  that  by 
telepathy." 

Horton  laughed  immoderately  and  said: 
"You'll  get  sick  of  poverty,  my  girl." 

"But  there'll  be  no  danger  of  being  blown 
up,"  she  laughed. 

"The  danger  is  not  passed,"  I  said;  "not 
until  we  are  done  with  your  mother." 

Horton  smote  the  arm  of  his  chair  by 
way  of  applause. 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  "you  may  need 
a  faster  horse  than  you  rode  last  evening." 

"Come,"  said  Ruth,  as  she  took  my  arm 
again,  "be  brave." 

I  had  known  some  perils,  but  this  made 
me  tremble. 

"I  will  try;  but,  my  dear,  I  am  horribly 
afraid  of  your  mother,"  I  confessed  with 
honest  trepidation. 

"Be  gentle  but  firm  while  you  present 
your  manifesto,"  she  urged.  "I  will  be 
the  populace  and  roar  my  approval.  Come, 
let  us  go  and  find  her." 


290  THE   MASTER 

It  is  only  necessary  for  me  to  say  that  we 
were  able  to  make  terms  with  her,  by  which 
she  relinquished  all  hope  of  any  grander 
name  for  Ruth  than  that  of  plain  Mrs. 
Richard  Holm. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

"  That  man  is  great,  and  he  alone, 
Who  serves  a  greatness  not  his  own 

For  neither  praise  nor  pelf  ; 
Content  to  know  and  be  unknown, 

Whole  in  himself." 
OWEN  MEREDITH  (Lord  Lyttori) 

I  SAID  in  the  beginning  that  this  nar 
rative  was  copied  in  part  from  the 
minutes  of  that  little  coterie  of  good  fellows, 
known  long  ago  as  the  School  for  Novelists, 
in  which  I  began  to  study  men  and  the  art 
of  describing  them.  Now,  as  I  turn  the 
record  of  these  nights  at  the  Sign  of  the 
Lanthorne,  I  come  to  one,  fast  by  the  oracle 
of  God,  toward  which  these  little  streams 
have  been  flowing,  all  unknown  to  me. 

Neither  my  quest,  nor  the  misbehaviours 
of  Rone  and  his  bloody  faction,  nor  the 
tragic  adventures  into  which  they  led  me, 
nor  my  lucky  and  singular  romance,  would 
have  tempted  me  to  this  task  I  am  now 
completing.  But  an  unexpected  hour  has 
sent  me  back  upon  every  stream  of  cir 
cumstance  that  made  it  possible,  and  here, 

291 


292  THE    MASTER 

in  the  musty  old  minute-book,  is  the  precise 
moment  of  its  beginning.     And  we  read: 

i4The  clock  strikes  eleven,  and  the  long 
hand  has  begun  its  round  in  a  little  cycle 
of  history.  It  is  the  closing  hour  of  the 
nineteenth  of  September,  1885.  The  great 
oak-like  Condon  sits  in  the  firelight  with 
Lovel,  who  looks  frail  as  a  reed  beside  him. 

"Condon  rises  and  tells  of  his  travels 
abroad,  of  the  love  of  strangers,  of  honours 
and  offers  of  help  that  were  showered  upon 
him,  of  the  growing  spirit  of  peace  and 
brotherhood  among  men. 

*  It  has  touched  me,'  he  said,  "  to  learn 
that  I  have  the  confidence  and  good  opinion 
of  so  many  people.  But  I  am  more  deeply 
gratified  to  learn  that  I  have,  at  last,  the 
confidence  and  good  opinion  of  myself.  It 
may  be  that  I  shall  learn  to-morrow  that  I 
have  exchanged  the  one  for  the  other  - 
that  I  have  lost  the  whole  world,  as  it  were, 
to  gain  my  own  soul.  Nevertheless,  I  shall 
think  it  a  good  bargain.  And  now,  young 
men,  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  as  strange 
a  tale  as  you  ever  imagined,  I  can  well  believe. 
k<I  had  great  ambitions  when  I  began 
my  work.  I  caught  the  zeal  of  fanatics, 
but  kept  a  cool  head.  To  that  I  owed  my 


THE   MASTER  293 

success  as  a  leader.  I  let  nothing  stand 
between  me  and  my  aim,  for  was  it  not 
a  righteous  aim,  approved  by  God  him 
self?  And  had  I  not  high  and  ample 
authority  for  achieving  it  by  any  means, 
however  bloody  they  might  be?  I  asked 
myself,  if  I  were  not  fighting  the  enemies 
of  the  Most  High,  and  I  made  ready  for 
war  upon  them  with  no  more  thought  of 
my  error  than  had  Saul  of  old,  when  he  went 
to  slay  the  Amalekites.  I  found  myself 
surrounded  with  the  vengeful  and  blood 
thirsty,  and  I  became  a  tyrant  in  my  effort 
to  control  them. 

"'Then  I  met  a  man  who  looked  into  my 
soul,  and  saw  its  blackness,  and  began  to 
turn  me  from  my  purpose  with  gentle  words. 
Somehow,  he  had  learned  my  plans,  and 
they  grieved  him.  Day  and  night  he  fol 
lowed  me,  pleading  for  peace  when  I  could 
see  no  hope  of  it.  At  first,  I  feared  the 
boy;  then  I  began  to  love  him  and  to  hear 
the  call  of  my  conscience  in  his  voice. 

"'By  and  by  he  brought  to  me  a  man 
uscript  in  which  he  had  set  forth  a  plan  of 
campaign  for  me  and  my  army  —  a  plan 
of  help  and  not  of  warfare.  He  suggested 
that  I  publish  it  as  a  declaration  of  the  hopes 


294  THE   MASTER 

and  views  of  my  council.  This  I  could  not 
do,  but  offered  to  find  a  publisher  for  the 
book,  and  give  it  public  approval,  and 
commend  its  teachings  to  the  brotherhood 
of  the  Toilers'  Chain. 

"'"I  agree,"  he  said,  "on  condition  that 
you  do  not  use  my  name." 

'""  Why  shall  I  not  use  your  name?"  I 


'"It  would  injure  me,  and  do  the  book  no 
credit,"  he  answered. 

"'"Injure  you!"  I  exclaimed.  "Why,  man! 
It  may  bring  you  wealth  and  great  renown." 
'"So  I  fear,"  he  said  to  me,  and  I  remem 
ber  every  word  and  tone,  and  the  look  of  his 
face,  when  he  answered:  "Wealth  and  great 
renown  are  not  for  me.  They  make  one  a 
slave,  and  1  would  serve  a  greater  Master." 

'It  was  strange,  incredible  and  beyond 
my  comprehension  -  this  great,  unselfish  soul 
which  had  come  and  laboured  with  rue, 
seeking  not  its  own.  But,  now,  I  see  its 
wisdom.  I  have  felt  its  power  sweeping 
over  the  wide  earth. 

'"People  would  have  it  that  I  wrote  the 
book,  although  I  was  not  base  enough  to 
claim  the  honour,  nor  good  enough  to  dis 
claim  H.  Suddenly,  I  was  whirled  into 


THE   MASTER  295 

the  skies.  Men  of  power  and  place,  against 
whom  I  had  planned  a  war  more  terrible 
than  any  in  history,  began  to  help  and  trust 
me.  Kings  and  presidents  applauded  me; 
millionaires  began  to  support  my  cause. 
They  had  disarmed  me ;  they  were  my  friends, 
and  I  could  not  give  them  battle.  They 
overcame  me  with  their  love  and  bounty. 
They  would  have  it  that  I  was  a  great  man, 
and  such,  with  all  my  heart,  I  tried  to  be. 
How  could  I  say  or  do  a  thing  not  approved 
by  the  gospel  of  this  book,  that  was  said 
to  be  mine?  I  had  to  talk  it,  think  it,  live 
it,  love  it.  My  friends,  I  was  like  a  bull 
shorn  of  its  horns.  I  could  not  move,  save 
in  the  way  of  kindness.  Consider  this 
wonderful  thing:  Here  was  I,  prepared  for 
war,  and  with  no  enemy  —  armed  for  ven 
geance  and  subdued  by  love,  for  all  good 
men  were  trying  to  help  me.  I  saw  that  the 
God  of  Samuel  was  not  mine.  I  felt  a  new 
power  in  my  heart.  I  was  a  man  of  peace. 
Those  set  on  vengeance  sought  to  take  my 
life,  and  the  worst  of  them  have  perished 
through  their  own  folly,  and  some  of  you 
have  seen  their  end.  I  saw  that  the  poor 
had  been  fooled  and  driven  like  cattle  — 
that  the  rich  were  suspicious,  and  that  both 


296  THE   MASTER 

were  looking  for  a  trusty  hand,  a  voice  of 
authority  to  make  peace  between  them. 
Such  they  thought  mine  to  be.  They  have 
welcomed,  they  have  exalted  me  —  unworthy 
as  I  am. 

"'I  have  seen  hatred  dying  out  of  the 
world.  I  have  witnessed  the  coming  of  a 
new  resolve;  that  there  is  one  treasure 
which  no  nation  may  rightly  barter  away, 
not  for  glory  nor  pride  nor  added  territory 

-  the  lives  and  honour  of  its  citizens. 

*  These  things  that  I  have  seen  and  felt 
have  lifted  me  above  myself.   Now,  1  am  strong 
enough  to  confess  my  folly  and  renounce  it. 
Henceforth,  I  must  be  what  I  am  to  all  the 
world  —  a  little  man  of  many  faults  and  van 
ities,  but  doing  my  best  with  them. 

*  When  I  look  at  the  slender  youth  who 
sits  beside  me  here  —  this  great-souled  man 
whose  love  has  held  me,  like  a  strong  but 
gentle   arm,   and   turned   me   to   its   bidding 

-  this    modest,    silent    man    who    would    be 
the  least  of  all  and  is  yet  the  greatest,  as  I 
verily  believe,  I  cannot  hold  my  peace.     Ben 
Lovel,   brother  of  all  men,   deliverer  of  my 
soul  and  body,  stand  up  —  stand  up,  I  say, 
and  take  your  greatness  on  you,  while  I  take 
my  shame/ 


THE   MASTER  297 

"The  speaker  sat  down,  and  Lovel  rose  in 
a  deep  silence,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
looking  thoughtfully  at  the  fire;  and  not 
one  who  sat  there  has  forgotten  the  calm 
of  his  face  as  the  light  shone  upon  it. 

"'John  Condon,  for  your  sake,  I  am 
glad  of  that  you  have  done/  he  said.  'I 
knew  that  this  triumphant  hour  was  coming. 
Good  master,  you  have  put  down  your  last 
and  greatest  foe,  and  your  shame  is  like  a 
crown  upon  your  head.  It  is  little  that  I  have 
done,  and  I  shall  take  no  sign  of  greatness. 

"'You  have  knowTn  not  what  to  think  of 
me  —  a  man  who  turned  from  wealth  and 
fame  and  many  cherished  things,  but  I  tell 
you,  it  is  because  I  have  seen  how  dearly 
one  has  to  pay  for  them.  Then,  too,  I 
spent  my  youth  where  a  man  has  neither 
need  nor  knowledge  of  the  things  you  love, 
nor  any  vanities. 

"'I  came  out  of  my  woodland  home  with 
no  weariness  of  men,  but  with  a  great  will 
to  help  them.  I  found  the  nations  of  the 
earth  filled  with  evil  of  their  own  making. 
I  heard  the  King  say:  "Thou  shalt  not 
kill"  save  when  I  command  it;  "thou  shalt 
not  steal"  from  any  but  my  enemies;  "thou 
shalt  not  bear  false  witness"  save  it  be  to 


298  THE    MASTER 

serve  your  country;  "Ihou  shall  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  and  thy 
neighbour  as  thyself,"  but  thou  shall  obey 
me  and  slay  thy  neighbour  and  offend  thy 
(MX!  it'  I  bid  thee  do  it. 

'I  saw  them  building,  slowly  building 
in  the  hearts  of  men,  respecl  for  human  life 
and  properly,  and  learing  il  down  wilh 
murder,  lusl,  and  pillage.  I  saw  each  \\ith 
one  hand  pointing  to  Ihe  way  of  righleousness, 
and  with  Ihe  olher  lo  Ihe  way  of  evil,  so 
thai  Ihe  people  were  confused  and  knew  nol 
in  whom  lo  put  their  trust  My  brolhers, 
I  have  seen  all  Ihis  lhal  makes  a  playlhing 
of  Ihe  soul  of  man  and  ils  greal  Falher,  and 
Iherein,  I  pray,  you  may  find  a  lask,  as  I 
have,  and  forgel  yourselves." 

He  ceased,  and  we  had  heard  Ihe  lasl  of 
his  voice  forever,  allhough  we  knew  il  nol. 
We  sal  in  silence,  thinking  —  Ihinking,  as 
we  looked  at  him,  and  the  clock  struck 
twelve,  and  the  Colonel  dismissed  us 
solemnly.  My  cousin  pressed  my  hand  and 
left  me,  as  if  in  haste  lo  be  gone. 

Since  Ihen,  I  have  soughl  him  in  many 
places  far  and  near.  Once  I  heard  of  a 
greal  leacher  who  dwell  among  Ihe  poor, 
in  a  dislanl  capilal,  and  cared  nol  for  weallh 


THE   MASTER  299 

or  fame,  and  taught  from  the  book  of  the 
little  shoemaker.  I  found  the  teacher,  and 
he  said  to  me: 

"No,  I  am  not  the  man  you  seek,  but 
only  his  follower." 

And  I  heard  of  a  parliament  of  nations, 
gathered  to  open  the  hearts  of  their  best 
men  on  the  subject  of  human  brotherhood 
and  peace  forever,  and  I  hoped  to  find 
him  there,  but  found  only  his  spirit  and  his 
words. 

Now,  the  rich  man  gives  of  his  abundance, 
and  the  bitterness  of  the  poor  is  passing,  and 
the  thunderbolts  of  their  wrath  no  longer 
shake  the  cities,  and  good  will  is  spreading 
to  the  ends  of  the  eartn. 

So  Ben  Lovel  lives  and  will  live,  and 
I  know  that  his  great  soul  is  yet  here  in 
its  slender  home,  doing  its  work  humbly 
and  forgetting  itself  and  all  that  is  his,  includ 
ing  my  love,  for  the  sake  of  his  many,  many 
brothers. 

Once  a  year  we  go  to  the  Isle  of  the  Sky. 
Ruth  loves  it,  even  more  than  I,  but  not 
more  than  a  fortnight's  cruise,  which  we 
take  every  summer  with  Cap'n  Larriper, 
who  commands  a  vessel  on  the  lakes,  and 
Wave,  the  handsome  wife  of  the  first  mate. 


300  THE   MASTER 

There  is  a  nook  in  the  woods  near  the 
Hermitage  where  we  love  to  go  of  a  summer 
day  and  sit  in  cool,  deep  shadows  and  read 
or  sing,  or  talk,  or  pray  to  some  special  saint 
in  our  calendar.  We  call  it  our  cathedral, 
and  it  is  very  old.  Before  houses  were  made 
with  hands  or  ever  a  man  was  born  of  a 
woman  it  was  there,  and  unnumbered  dead 
are  in  its  crypt  and  every  age  has  added 
something  to  its  grandeur,  (iray,  tapered 
columns  rise  to  green  arches  far  above  our 
heads.  Dim  aisles,  carpeted  with  mosses, 
green  and  gray,  hush  our  footsteps  so  they 
disturb  not  the  low  hymning  of  the  pines. 
Rugs  of  linea  and  robin's  wheat  invite  us, 
and  here  and  there  ferns  and  branches  shake 
out  their  incense  as  our  feet  touch  them. 
On  either  side  is  a  great,  memorial  window 
when  the  sun  is  low,  and  you  would  say 
that  between  the  tree  coin  i  in  IN  there  wen* 
long,  golden  panes,  all  thickly  wrought  with 
sprays  and  branches,  to  check  and  soften 
the  glow. 

There  one  day  I  sat  with  Gabriel  Horton, 
whose  bones  now  lie  in  a  corner  of  the  garden 
that  he  loved,  and  told  him  the  full  sl<>r\ 
as  it  is  here  set  down. 

"Now    where,    think    you,    is    my    young 


THE   MASTER  301 

master?"  I  queried,  "and  why  does  he 
not  return  ?" 

"Look  no  more  for  him,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  with  a  sigh.  :<Your  ears  have 
not  heard  a  better  thing  than  this:  he  loved 
her  who  was  to  be  your  wife  and  it  is  chiefly 
for  your  sake  that  he  is  gone  to  return  no  more 
to  you.  But  when  you  are  gone  to  yeur  home 
again  I  shall  see  him  and  learn  of  his  work, 
and  I  shall  say  no  more  of  our  dear  master." 

We  rose  and  walked  slowly,  thoughtfully 
down  a  mossy  aisle  toward  the  Hermitage. 
Thrushes  were  singing  in  the  lofts  of  the  old 
cathedral. 

My  companion  added: 

"There  is  a  love  greater,  even,  than  that 
of  a  man  for  a  woman." 

My  wife  met  us  and  took  my  arm. 

"It  must  be  very  wonderful,"  I  said,  as 
I  kissed  her. 

"It  is  the  love  of  a  man  for  his  brothers," 
said  Gabriel  Horton.  "That,  I  believe,  is 
the  way  to  love  God.  This  love  no  longer 
passes  all  understanding  for  it  grows,  ever, 
in  the  heart  of  the  world,  and  will  bear  the 
fruit  of  peace  and  brotherhood.  I  have  seen 
great  things,  but  you  shall  see  greater.  God 
be  with  you," 


302  THE    MASTER 

Always  when  we  sit  in  our  old  cathedral 
and  hear  the  pines  and  the  thrushes  we 
think  of  our  master  and  of  his  great  work 
and  love,  and  in  silence  we  look  out  through 
the  open  door  that  he  has  set  before  us. 


THE   END 


D 


M300637 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


